


The Journey

by Jeanie205



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7300444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanie205/pseuds/Jeanie205
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is so busy trying to get everyone down from that tower that it's a couple of days before he realizes that Octavia is nowhere to be found.  With a new disaster looming, he just wants to know that she's okay, so as soon as he finds a small clue to her whereabouts, he takes off on a journey to locate her.  But Clarke isn't letting him go alone.  And a couple of others unexpectedly want to tag along.  </p><p>But this is a journey where Bellamy and Clarke discover a whole lot more than what's become of Octavia.</p><p>Begins immediately after the end of the S3 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to Nell65 to finding time in her busy life to beta this for me. She really is AwesomeNell.

Chapter 1

 

It was several days before Bellamy realized that Octavia was gone. And by then, it was much too late.

**********

He was standing on his perch next to the Commander's throne, focused on all the joyous reunions happening right in front of him, so it was a moment before Bellamy understood that he really had just watched his sister casually run through Pike with her sword. His head was already spinning from the implication of Clarke's words, that they hadn't saved the world quite yet. And then he saw...that.

For just an instant he was frozen to the spot, his eyes shifting from Pike's fallen body to Octavia hurrying out the doorway, and by the time his feet finally began to move and he gave chase, she was nowhere to be found amidst the rooms crowded with bewildered former combatants. And soon enough duty pressed in on him from all sides, and he was forced to temporarily abandon his search.

As soon as all the recent denizens of the City of Light had their wits about them once more, an exhausted Abby Griffin set up a makeshift medbay to tend to the wounded and the disoriented. After that, the next order of business was figuring out how to get down from the tower.

Bellamy and Marcus Kane, who only hours earlier had been locked in a death struggle, worked together to devise a plan to lower everyone through the inner tunnel that had been left behind when the elevator was destroyed. They'd first considered using the exterior walls, but the weather had turned nasty and no one wanted to wait for sunnier prospects. Not to mention the added problem of all the windows and balconies that they'd carefully doctored with oil before the fight began.

So it was the elevator shaft or nothing.

It was a Trikru, their very best tree climber, in fact, who offered to rappel down those inner walls. They utilized what rope they could scavenge to carefully lower him foot by foot, as he struggled along the way using whatever handholds and footholds he could find.

When he finally reached the bottom, other recently de-chipped grounders helped him gather additional ropes to set up a more stable rescue network, secured by the knotting techniques that only a clan of serious tree climbers could have devised. Eventually, after most of the able-bodied had been rescued in this fashion, they attached a large sturdy wooden basket to the bottom of the rope and lowered the wounded to the ground.

The dead were sent down last.

When exhaustion started to settle into his bones, Bellamy had wondered if it was worth it to expend the energy to lower all those dead bodies to the ground. But the Trikru had been insistent, and Roan had sent up word that Ontari must be given the glorious sendoff due her status as Commander. And so they worked several more hours, tediously sending down the dead, the last of which was Charles Pike.

Then it was only the four of them left, himself, Kane, and the Griffin women. Abby went next at Kane's insistence. By now, they'd done it so many times that it was the work of only a few minutes to get her down safely.

"You're next, Clarke," Bellamy said, his voice hoarse with fatigue. But when he glanced over, he was surprised to see reluctance on her face, to see fear.

"It's safe, I promise you," he reassured. "I won't let anything happen to you."

But he was misreading her concern.

"It's not that," she said softly, giving her head a little shake. "What will happen when we reach the ground? It's still not over. They think they're safe, but it's not true. Did I have the right to make that decision for everyone?"

So far, only the four of them knew about the looming threat from the nuclear meltdown. They'd all thought it better to delay dealing with that issue until the more immediate concerns were addressed.

Bellamy was always careful about how and when and why he touched Clarke. For his own peace of mind, he had to be. But he knew this was not the time to hold back.

"Hey," he said, holding her gaze with his own. His voice was equally soft, and his hands reached up to press her shoulders tenderly, to stroke up and down her arms. "You saved them. This time, you saved them. Do you really think they all wanted to live only in their heads? At ALIE's direction? Is that what _you_ would have wanted?"

Her head was shaking before he'd even finished his question.

"No, of course not," she said adamantly. "I want to live my life, no matter how short it is. Not just dream it."

Bellamy squeezed her shoulders, again offering reassurance.

"And so do they, believe me. They were there in the City of Light and they know what you did for them. It'll be okay," he added. "You won't have to be _Wanheda_ anymore."

Clarke gave him a rueful little half-smile, the smallest one in her repertoire, reluctantly allowing herself to be convinced.

"Let's go, then," she said, loud enough to be heard by Kane who had removed himself to a discreet distance while their conversation played out in private.

"I'll see you on the ground," Bellamy told her. For an instant, Clarke looked like there might be something else she wanted to say, some other gesture she wanted to make, but in the end she simply slung herself into the rope carrier, while Bellamy pulled on it, signaling to those below to begin her descent.

And then only the two men were left. There was no question that Kane would go first. He was in reasonably good shape, but he simply didn't have the upper body strength that Bellamy had, strength that might well be required for a descent without assistance from above.

When Clarke was finally down safely and the carrier had reappeared, Bellamy cocked his head at Kane, who nodded in return and began to drift toward the shaft. Bellamy was checking the top of the rope system for perhaps the hundredth time when Kane unexpectedly reversed his steps.

"Bellamy," he began determinedly, "I can't leave here without saying something about what happened in this room. About what I did to you...was trying to do..."

" _Don't_." Bellamy cut him off abruptly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me."

"The hell I don't!" Kane was equally resolute. "For god's sake, Bellamy, I had my hands around your throat. I was trying to kill you. Why the hell didn't you fight back? You could take me easily."

"Fuck!" Bellamy turned away, remembering that awful moment when he'd thought Kane might really kill him. Unless Bellamy killed him first.

He pivoted abruptly to face Kane.

"You were chipped! You didn't know what the fuck you were doing. I knew that. I don't hold you responsible."

Bellamy briefly closed his eyes, just a quick blink, willing himself to remain in control.

"But _I_ wasn't chipped. I never had some asshole AI directing my actions. I managed to be an asshole without any help at all. And look what the hell happened! I almost got you killed. So don't _you_ apologize to _me_."

Kane nodded slowly, and at first Bellamy thought he wasn't going to respond. Because of course there _was_ no response. It was true, all of it.

"But you learned," Kane said finally, "about doing the right thing. A lot of chipped grounders would be dead right now if you hadn't insisted on non-lethal tactics. And then, of course," he added with a wry smile, "there's the whole thing about you and Clarke and the rest of you saving us all. You might remember that part when you're taking stock of all your bad deeds."

"I might," Bellamy conceded with shrug and a nod.

***********

It was harder than he'd thought it would be, descending with only the assistance of those on the ground, hoping like hell the whole way down that the rope above him would hold firm. He'd needed every ounce of strength he could muster to keep himself from twisting and bouncing dangerously off the crumbling concrete walls of the shaft.

And then there was the darkness. Without the ubiquitous candles, there was nothing to light his way. In those middle floors, when he'd completely left behind the last bit of light from the throne room and had yet to reach the distant daylight that filtered in on the ground floor, it had felt like a descent into hell.

But then Bellamy remembered that he'd already been to hell. That he'd been chemically 'cleaned' to within an inch of his life, hung upside down and drained of his blood, and that compared to that, this was child's play. And besides, he knew that Clarke was waiting for him at the bottom, probably fretting herself sick. He renewed his efforts to stay centered in the shaft and get it the hell over with.

When he reached the bottom, the grounders manning the ropes eyed him warily. They'd all needed each other these past few days, and a sort of impromptu truce had arisen. Bellamy wondered how long it would last. He hoped to god it would hold when the clans were told about this new threat. He knew the Arkadians didn't have the energy to both figure out a solution to the nuclear meltdown and fight the grounders.

He'd scarcely cleared the shaft when Clarke appeared, smiling at him. He watched her hands flutter and he knew that if they'd been alone she'd have flung her arms around him in relief, like she had that day at the gate of Camp Jaha.

But something had changed since then. Embraces between them were far too weighted now to be offered under the curious gazes of strangers. They were meant for quiet times. Private times. As always, Bellamy shied away from examining exactly how he knew that was so. He just did.

Clarke contented herself with grabbing his hands and squeezing tight.

"Hey," he said, laughing. "I managed to get down that shaft without any broken bones. Including these fingers."

"Sorry," she giggled. (Bellamy wondered when the last time was that Clarke had giggled.) "I'm just so relieved you're okay. You know?"

"Yeah, I know," he said, and there it was again. The things he knew without knowing how he knew them. "I'm happy to see you, too."

They might have stood there in their relief, smiling at each indefinitely, if Kane hadn't approached just then.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, turning to Bellamy, "but I thought you should know right away. It's Octavia."

Bellamy's head shifted immediately into concern for his sister, and he chided himself for forgetting about her. Even momentarily.

"How is she? I saw her going down with one of the early groups, but I never got the chance to talk to her first."

"Well, that's just it. I've just had a word with Indra, and...the thing is, Bellamy, no one seems to know exactly what's become of Octavia."

**********

Bellamy was reluctant to approach Indra. Feelings of shame still nearly overwhelmed him when he recalled their unprovoked slaughter of Indra's army. Pike had been so sure that it was necessary. That the safety of Arkadia depended upon it. That to do nothing was tantamount to abandoning their people to an inevitable attack by the grounders.

And...maybe Pike had been right. Maybe if that standing army had still been in place when Lexa died...when the Azgedan Ontari took over as commander...maybe his prediction would have come to pass. Pike certainly thought so, but Bellamy was not so sure. And now he would never know.

All he knew for sure was that before that day, he'd only killed when he had to. When his life, or the lives of those he was responsible for, demanded it. And he could no longer believe that an unprovoked attack on a sleeping army met that threshold. Bellamy had never been very good at lying to himself.

So he found it excruciatingly difficult to ask for Indra's help. But this was about O, and _difficult_ was not the same as _impossible_.

"Don't be concerned, she's already agreed to talk to you," Kane murmured to him as they approached the Trikru heda, and Bellamy wondered how much of Kane's assistance sprang from his own feelings of guilt and shame.

They came to a halt a few feet in front of Indra, who rose to confront him. He looked down at her, wondering not for the first time how a woman so slender could be so intimidating. But then he realized he knew a lot of small but formidable women.

"Indra," he said, giving her a brief nod. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."

Then he waited as Indra looked him over, noting, no doubt, the cuts and bruises that had accumulated on his face and body over the past week or two. Finally, she nodded in return.

"I'm not doing this for you, Bellamy kom Skaikru, I'm doing it for Octavia. I am concerned about her."

That made two of them. "So, have you seen her, Indra?"

"Not since shortly after she cut me down from the cross."

Bellamy watched as her eyes flickered toward the row of tall wooden structures in the form of an "X" that still lined the street leading to the tower. He glanced down and saw the gaping wounds that pierced her wrists, only now barely beginning to heal. The same wounds he'd seen on Kane's arms.

Kane's face contorted into lines of pain as he followed Bellamy's eyes. "Indra, I'm...so sorry..."

She cut him off with a look. "You bear these same scars, Marcus Kane. We were all victims of that...machine. We came together to defeat it."

Indra turned back to Bellamy. "I know you played a great part in saving everyone. Let that be the beginning of your return to the path of honor," she said, her face impassive.

Bellamy found he couldn't hold Indra's gaze, and his eyes slid shut as he took a deep breath. _Would he ever again trust himself to know which path was the honorable one?_

He cleared his throat of bile and regret so he could ask another question.

"So. Octavia cut you down. Then what?"

"She told me what had happened, but I knew it already. It was as if everyone here just...suddenly woke up. But they were confused and unsure. She and I cut the others down and then freed some Trikru who had been locked up by the crazy machine."

She paused and Bellamy was sure he knew what was coming next.

"That was when Octavia told me she'd killed Pike. 'Blood must have blood' she said. But I'm not sure Lincoln would have agreed with how she did it. These things must happen in a certain way..."

Indra paused again and Bellamy could see that she was distressed.

"She told me the whole of it. How she hobbled Pike as they were fighting the intruders, but then you saved him. How later, Pike saved her life. And how...he nodded at her after it was all over, as if to say that they were...even. _But we were not even, we could never be even_ , she told me."

Indra let out a breath so quietly, it was barely discernible even from two feet away.

"I did not want this for her, this path of vengeance. She thought it would make her feel better, but I knew it would not."

Bellamy agreed. "I tried to tell her," he said dully.

Indra gave a small nod. "I did not react to her news in the way she had hoped, and it was clear she was not happy with me. Even more so when I would not join her in leaving this place again. It was different before, when Octavia and I left. The Commander was still in charge. And if anything happened to her, there was the conclave. But now..."

Indra looked resolute.

"I need to stay and help put our lives back together. The Azgeda king is here somewhere, but Polis is Trikru. And few of rank have survived among the Trikru," she added bitterly.

"Indra..." Bellamy began again, his voice strained, but she cut him off.

"No, Bellamy. It was not just what happened on that field. Or even the machine." Indra paused, and he could see some great emotion simmering just below the surface. "In her anger, Octavia also told me about TonDC."

"Ah," he said, not surprised by her reaction.

"You knew." It was a statement.

"Yes," he acknowledged, "I knew. But not until later. They did it to keep the battle plan alive, so that you could attack Mt. Weather."

"But we did not attack the mountain."

"No," he said. "You didn't."

Kane interrupted the short silence that followed. "I think you should tell him what else Octavia said, Indra."

Indra nodded unhappily. "She said her home was gone and she would have to look for another."

"Her home?" Bellamy was puzzled. "Octavia was...uncomfortable...in Arkadia. We talked about that. But it's still there. It's not gone, unless..."

He turned to Kane. "Unless what happened with Pike...?"

Kane shook his head. "After everything that's happened, I'm not sure we can afford to lose anyone else. I'll talk to Abby, but I think she'll agree that we could find some leniency for Octavia. She's in no danger from us."

Bellamy nodded, relieved.

Indra spoke up then. "It was not a place that Octavia felt was her home. It was Lincoln."

"Of course," Bellamy agreed. "But where would she go? What is she looking for? Lincoln...she can't replace Lincoln no matter where she goes."

"Yes, I agree. But that's a truth she must find out for herself."


	2. Chapter 2

As far as Bellamy could figure, getting everyone back to Arkadia was going to be a logistical nightmare.

Abby was busy treating the wounded and the confused, both Arkadian and grounder. Clarke was splitting her time between helping her mother with medical care and working with Kane to apprise the grounder leaders of the latest impending threat to their safety. That left Bellamy, with the assistance of Nathan Miller and a few others, to organize the transport of their people safely out of Polis. A hostile city whose population, he feared, might turn on them at any moment.

They began by rounding up as many Arkadians as they could find, a task complicated by the fact that not everyone had returned from the City of Light with perfect clarity of mind. Some required more time to reorient, to find themselves again. Their first piece of luck came when they ran across Nathan's father, David Miller, who was immediately pressed into service.

An exhausted Bellamy was trying to figure out how to proceed, calculating how to carry their wounded, where to gather food and other supplies for the long trek home. They still had that one Rover parked just outside the city, but they'd need that for the wounded. He was running the various possibilities through his tired brain, trying to determine which scenario would get them all home the fastest, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Bellamy! Finally! I've been looking for you for hours."

Never had Bellamy been so happy, and so surprised, to see Monty Green.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Jasper and I brought two more vehicles. They're parked next to the one you left at the edge of the city."

"Jasper's okay? Clarke said he'd been chipped."

"Yeah, he's okay. Considering I had to shoot him in the leg." Monty's lips turned up in a wry smile. "But then again, he did stab me with a screwdriver."

"Shit, Monty! I'm sorry. We should have checked before we left. We shouldn't have left you with him. I mean, we knew Jasper was fucked up."

"Bellamy, they forced the chip on him back at Luna's rig. You couldn't have known. And we don't have time for one of your guilt trips now, anyway. We already wasted a couple of days debating whether or not we should come to Polis. Jasper cut the wires when he was chipped, so there was no way to get in touch with you."

"That's why the walkie-talkies stopped working. We weren't sure. But it wouldn't have helped for you to come any sooner. It took us all this time just to get down from the tower."

Bellamy cocked his head toward the imposing structure, and as Monty followed with his eyes his jaw dropped as he contemplated his first close-up view of the Heda's Tower.

"Shit! How far up were you?"

"At the top. In the throne room."

"But there were stairs, right? It just took a long time to walk everyone down?"

Bellamy huffed a small laugh. It was funny only in retrospect. "Not exactly."

Monty's face screwed up in puzzlement but his gaze never left the tower. "Then how...?"

"Hey, you know, it'll make a great story the next time we all get hammered, but right now..."

"Yeah, of course, what do you want us to do? Jasper stayed with the Rovers. Just in case..."

Bellamy's amusement was real this time. "I'm not sure the grounders want anything to do with our vehicles. But still...good idea." Bellamy clapped Monty on the shoulder. "You guys showing up now is like a fucking miracle. Great timing."

"Hey, Monty!"

They were interrupted just then by Nathan and Bryan.

"Yep, the cavalry has arrived just in time," Bellamy acknowledged. "We now have three Rovers to use for transport. Let's start dividing everyone into groups. We'll take the wounded first. And Jackson, maybe, to take care of them. Ask Abby if she can spare him. Then everyone else."

Even with the three Rovers, and everyone jammed together as tightly as possible, it took eight trips to get everyone back to Arkadia. As with the descent from the tower, Abby, Clarke, Kane, and Bellamy were among the last to be evacuated. By rights, Abby could have gone earlier, after all the wounded Arkadians had left. But she'd insisted on staying to treat the grounders.

No one felt pain in the City of Light, so when the program terminated, there were a lot of people with wounds that had been ignored for days, including several broken bones. Abby treated them all, and Clarke stayed to help her. But the Rovers were fast losing their charge, until finally there was only one left with any juice.

Kane only persuaded Abby to leave by promising she could come back to Polis soon to check on her patients. As he followed along behind them as they all made their way out of the city toward the last available Rover, Bellamy was surprised to learn that Abby felt responsible for all of it. Her heard her arguing with Kane about it.

"How is this your fault, Abby?" Kane asked. "What could you have done?"

Bellamy shifted slightly away, but not before he saw her eyes well up as she turned toward Kane.

"I could have resisted! I could have not taken the chip. After I took it, everyone did. And people died, Marcus. I'm responsible for that."

"You took the chip to save Raven. And I took it because they were going to kill you. That's what we do, Abby. That's what it means to be human. We care about one another, and sometimes a person will do just about anything to protect someone they care about."

Kane stopped and put his arms around Abby then, and Bellamy hurried around the couple to give them some privacy. But Kane's words resonated with him as he recalled his own from months earlier.

_It only makes sense. He'd do anything for her. To protect her._

Clarke was walking just ahead, her shoulders sagging with fatigue. Bellamy wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her, as Kane had done with her mother, and tell her that everything was going to be all right.

But he knew couldn't do that. And not just because she would reject such rose-colored words for the sentimental drivel they were.

Although he supposed it was possible they might bring an ironic smile to her lips.

So, yeah, maybe he could go with the optimistic words, but the embrace was out of the question. Clarke would let him know when and how he could touch her. It was safer that way.

But conversation was always allowed, so he quickly caught up with her and started one. Maybe it was his tired brain that failed to filter his words, or maybe he just needed to know.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back with us," he said, the words just falling out of his mouth..

Clarke swung her head towards him, startled. "What! Why?" she asked, two small creases between her brows the evidence of her confusion.

Bellamy shrugged, and his eyes shifted away from her. "You had...several opportunities to come home before, but you didn't."

By now they were only feet from the Rover, but Clarke came to a halt suddenly in the middle of the path and grabbed his arm so that Bellamy, too, was forced to stop.

"I'm back, Bellamy," she said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. Unless you do, too," she added as an afterthought, before turning abruptly and continuing on towards their vehicle.

"Okay," he said softly. And more or less to himself. But waves of relief washed through him.

**********

Pike was dead and buried, and Jaha was still under lock and key until they could figure out how to deal with him, so Kane and Abby, with some trepidation, decided they needed to hold an election. But apparently the people of Arkadia had learned one thing from their experience as ALIE's puppets, and all that had followed: it was possible that they could, under certain circumstances, live side by side with the grounders in relative harmony. Marcus Kane, still an advocate for peaceful coexistence, was swept into office near unanimously.

But Kane had learned something, too: transparency was everything. The day after the election, he held a meeting in which he explained to everyone in the camp exactly what Clarke had learned about the nuclear meltdowns. The Arkadians seemed to take the news a lot better than Bellamy had expected.

There were questions, of course. And a few volunteers among the technical folks who had some knowledge of nuclear physics, and they were told to report to Raven Reyes. But unlike the meeting of only a few weeks earlier, Bellamy could sense a pervasive calm quietude, a kind of fatalistic acceptance by the Arkadians that what would be would be.

They'd all been through a lot, and they would fight like hell until the end, but it seemed they were done assessing blame and looking for scapegoats. Whatever life had in store for them they would meet head on.

Bellamy had never been so proud of his people as he was that day.

Kane's second act as chancellor was to arrange a meeting with the grounder leadership, which at this point comprised the Trikru heda, Indra, and the Azgedan king, Roan.

It was while they were discussing security arrangements for the meeting that Bellamy asked Kane how Roan had fared during their fight with ALIE.

"He was lucky, I suppose. Jaha was busy up in the throne room, so the others locked up Roan to be dealt with later. They had just about decided to put him up on one of their crosses," Kane's slight shudder was involuntary, Bellamy knew, "when ALIE's program terminated. Unfortunately, no one bothered to unlock his chains, so he wasn't freed until the next day when Indra and Octavia found him."

Bellamy looked up sharply at this new piece of information about his sister.

"So Roan saw Octavia? Spoke to Octavia?"

"Well, I don't know about 'spoke to'..."

"But he might know something, something we haven't heard before." Bellamy couldn't seem to suppress the small burst of hope he'd felt at Kane's words

This was the first piece of news he'd gotten about Octavia since he'd spoken to Indra. He'd asked everyone in Arkadia if they'd seen her on the streets of Polis, but none of them knew Octavia well and no one could help him.

"I'll need to talk to Roan when he comes for your meeting."

"Well, you'll have plenty of opportunity, since you'll be at the meeting, too."

"What! _I_ will? Why is that?" Bellamy was puzzled. "I don't know anything about nuclear physics."

"And neither do I. That's why I'm leaving all that to Raven and whoever she can round up to help her. I don't need your help with the science, Bellamy. I need you as my military advisor. We hope to work with the grounders on this, but I don't want to be at their mercy. I want my man in there. Right from the beginning."

Bellamy shook his head, frowning. "But you've got plenty of experienced soldiers. David Miller, for instance..."

"David is very competent, but he was trained as a guard, not a soldier. To you, it just comes naturally. No one else in this camp could have pulled off that brilliant military operation to defeat the City of Light. I was there, remember. On the other side."

Bellamy protested immediately. "I didn't defeat ALIE. That was Clarke. She's the one who risked her life by putting that damned 'flame' in her head!"

"And who was it who kept her body safe from harm while she took that trip into her subconscious?" Kane's words were quick and sharp, as his eyes bored into Bellamy's. "Who kept those of us who'd been chipped at bay so that she could find that switch?"

"But...but I promised Clarke I'd keep her safe," Bellamy stuttered, as if that was all the explanation necessary.

He didn't understand Kane's sudden knowing smile, the sympathetic nod of his head. Or perhaps he understood all too well.

"That part I do understand," Kane said quietly. "And Clarke will be on this committee, too, " he added, his smile widening. "Perhaps that will make something as dull as a committee seem a bit more attractive."

Bellamy flushed, felt the heat in his face, and hoped that his tan skin would make it less noticeable.

He quickly reverted to the original subject. "I'll come to your meeting, but if I learn anything from that Azgedan that points me in Octavia's direction, I'm going to be leaving for a while."

Bellamy figured Kane must have seen by his expression that he wasn't going to back down on this, because the older man finally nodded and sighed. "Agreed," he said.

**********

The grounders, particularly King Roan of Azgeda, would have preferred that the meeting take place in Polis, or some other grounder stronghold. But where the Kane of a month ago might have agreed, this Kane knew that in some areas it paid to stand your ground. Raven had said it would be impossible to explain the problem to them without access to the computer, and was adamant that for once the grounders must come to them.

Indra understood that this was not a problem that the clans could solve on their own and finally persuaded Roan, although Bellamy heard from Kane that apparently the Azgedan was not happy about it. Of course both arrived with a retinue of warriors, but Bellamy had expected as much. He had his men stationed all along the pathway from the Ark's outer door to the computer room, where the meeting would take place. Only the principals would be allowed into the meeting room. Their retainers would be given refreshment. And watched carefully.

This preliminary meeting would include only Kane, Clarke, Raven and himself, from Arkadia. Indra, Roan, and an Azgedan scholar from the grounders. Bellamy had been shocked to hear that there _was_ such a thing as an Azgedan scholar, but the man was apparently well-versed in such topics as geography and topography. Which could prove immensely useful, since all the Arkadians had, even on their computers, were pre-cataclysm maps, which he knew were often hopelessly out of date.

Roan had barely sat at their makeshift metal conference table before he began to speak, and it was instantly clear to Bellamy that he was being deliberately provocative.

"So where is this brilliant scientist?" he asked, turning his head this way and that. "The one who insisted we must meet in this ugly room? I don't see him anywhere." Roan was well-acquainted with every Arkadian in the room save Raven, so the target of this barb was immediately obvious.

Bellamy could see the gleam in Raven's eyes as she contemplated King Roan, and he tried hard to school his features so that the flicker of amusement he felt would not be apparent to the others.

She wasted no time in responding.

" _She_ is right here...Your Majesty. Oh, and please excuse me if I used the wrong term there. Should it be...I don't know, maybe Your Worshipful Eminence? Or how about... _Your Arrogance?_ " This last bit of sass was accompanied by a vintage Raven smirk, and Bellamy's lips twisted as he fought to disguise his smile.

Beside him, Clarke covered her mouth with her hand and coughed delicately.

Kane frowned. "Raven, I don't think Roan meant to be disrespectful..."

"I meant only to assure myself that there was a good reason why I was forced to return to this place," Roan said deliberately, talking right over the chancellor. "My last visit left a bad taste in my mouth."

Bellamy snorted softly, recalling his entirely necessary "test shot" into Roan's arm.

Kane just looked exasperated.

Raven huffed and rolled her eyes. As expected, she was more than willing to take on the grounder king.

"You see all this equipment behind me? All these computers." Her gaze never left Roan's face as she swept her arms around to indicate the vast array of electronics. "Like this one over here," she said, "that helped me find the kill switch in ALIE's program. Or that one over there that tells us where all the nuclear plants were a hundred years ago before this planet went all to shit."

She paused, cocking a brow at Roan.

"You got anything like _this_ stuff lying around in your not-ugly rooms?"

Roan's brows drew together in annoyance as he gave a brief, but expected, shake of his head.

"Well, then. These are all going to help me explain what's happening. You get to see pictures on these ugly machines. And projections. And even calculations." Raven grinned. "But I won't bore you with those."

She eyed the group around the table.

"Look. This is just the beginning. We need to figure out what to do. What's the best we can hope for. But we can't do that without a lot more information, which, when we get it, these ugly things behind me are going to help us analyze."

She brought the computers online then and began to explain the meltdown problem in some detail. Bellamy knew he should be listening intently, but somehow he just couldn't make himself. It wasn't that what she saying wasn't important. Hell, even after everything they'd been through, he really couldn't downplay the gravity of the situation. No point in lying to himself. They might not be able fix this one.

But he knew he wasn't going be the one to come up with the answer. He knew his role would be ensuring the safety of whoever it was that figured out what they needed to do about it. Just like always. And all that would come much later. So his mind drifted, as it often did these days, to Octavia and where the hell she might be.

He tried to tamp down the worry that rose inside him every time he thought about her, out there on her own. Not that he had any idea about forcing her to come back to Arkadia. Hell, he'd long ago given up the idea that he had any control over Octavia. Shit, even _Lincoln_...

Fuck! It hit him like a punch to the gut. Each time he remembered, it was like he was hearing it for the first time.

Bellamy tried so hard not to dwell on what had happened to Lincoln. Not to obsess over what part he himself had played in the fate of his friend. Because what was the point? It was just another thing he could never take back. Another in the long list of unforgivable things he'd done that he'd just have to learn to live with.

But sometimes, when he least expected it, the guilt and the sadness rose up and threatened to swallow him whole.

He must have made a small sound, or maybe he moved slightly. Maybe it was the expression on his face. Or maybe it was simply that Clarke didn't need her eyes or her ears to know when he felt like crap. She shifted slightly, reached under the table, squeezed his hand briefly. Their eyes met, and he gave her the tiniest of nods. _Thanks_.

By the time the meeting broke up more than two hours later, Bellamy had a crick in his neck from sitting still for so long. Clarke had side-eyed him several times, and it was clear that his inattention hadn't gone unnoticed. She just knew him too damn well. She grabbed his arm as they rose from their seats, and he knew he was probably in for a gentle rebuke.

But Clarke's censure would have to wait.

"I'll be right back," he told her, removing her hand and hurrying after Roan. He caught up with the man just as he was leaving the room.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" Bellamy figured it couldn't hurt to be polite.

Roan said nothing as he turned toward Bellamy, his brow cocked inquisitively.

"It's about my sister. Octavia."

Roan looked puzzled. "I'm not sure I remember her..."

"She and Indra freed you from the cells in Polis." Bellamy was doing his very best not to appear impatient, but it was hard work.

Roan nodded. "What about her?"

"I just wondered if you maybe saw her talking with someone after they unchained you? Or heard her saying something about where she was heading next?" He tried to make his voce casual, matter-of-fact.

Bellamy knew it was stupid to expect that some golden nugget of information was going to drop into his lap just like that. But he had to try. He just wanted to know she was okay. That's all.

But Roan was shaking his head before Bellamy had even finished asking his question.

"I never heard her speak at all. She was in a big hurry when she was unlocking those chains, just like she was when I saw her later."

Bellamy was suddenly alert. "You saw her later?"

"Galloping like a maniac through the streets. Very unsafe in such a crowded...".

"Galloping? She was on horseback?" Bellamy cut him off.

Roan looked at Bellamy like he thought he was the village idiot. "Hard to gallop on anything else."

"And did you happen to notice which way she was headed?"

"Towards the western part of the city, I think. That would be near the area where you and I first...met," he added with just a touch of irony.

Bellamy nodded his thanks. But Roan had a question of his own.

"Why are you asking about your sister?"

Bellamy sighed, reluctant to give this stranger information about his family. On the other hand, if there was even the slightest chance it would help him find Octavia...

"She seems to have...ah...disappeared. No one's seen her since everything happened in Polis. So, um, thanks for your help." He nearly strangled over the courtesy.

Roan acknowledged his thanks with the smallest of nods, and was almost out the door, when he turned suddenly and favored Bellamy with a wide smirk and an impertinent question of his own.

"Have trouble keeping track of your women, do you?"

**********

Bellamy had already cleared it with Kane and was in his quarters packing his few possessions when Clarke finally caught up with him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as she watched him stuff his extra shirt into his pack.

"I would've thought that was obvious."

"Then maybe I should rephrase my question. _Why_ are you packing?"

Bellamy sighed. He should have known he wasn't going to get out of Arkadia without an interrogation.

"I'm going to look for Octavia," he said. "I've already cleared it with Kane."

Clarke grabbed at his arm, forcing him around to face her. "And you were just going to leave? Without telling me?" His heart sank. She looked hurt.

"Of course not! I'd have come by to say goodbye," he said indignantly (although a tiny part of him wondered if he might not have tried to get away with leaving a note. Just to avoid this very conversation.)

"I'm not going to be gone that long. Roan saw Octavia on horseback, riding west out of Polis, so I thought I'd start looking in that direction." He had a plan, dammit! He knew what he was doing. He wasn't exactly a greenhorn.

"And you're planning to go on foot?" She made it sound like they hadn't already walked to hell and gone across this fucking planet. But Clarke didn't wait for an answer.

"No," she said suddenly, grabbing his pack and holding it close to her chest. "No, you're not going to do that."

"What the hell, Clarke!" Bellamy snatched his pack from her hands. "I'm pretty sure we had this same conversation months ago, and I could swear I told you then that I don't take orders from you."

Clarke went still for a moment, and then her mouth twisted and he could see that her eyes were shiny. Shit! He couldn't stand it when she cried. She fucking _never_ cried.

But then she blinked and seemed to pull herself together.

"Bellamy," she said, catching at his hand, twisting their fingers together. "Can you do something for me? Can you just wait until I get back. I'll only be a few minutes."

"What...right _now_?"

"Please, Bellamy."

He sighed. Wondered why he was even arguing when he knew very well that he'd do as she asked.

"Okay," he agreed. "But make it quick."

"Quick as I can." And she was out the door.

Bellamy lay on his bed, anticipating that it was going to be a long walk and he could use some rest. He must have drifted off, because the next thing he knew Clarke was shaking him awake.

"We can use one of the Rovers, but only for two weeks. Kane made me promise we'd be back by then."

"Yeah?" he said. "How'd you manage that?" He sat up abruptly, already thinking how much more ground they could cover...

"Wait! Did you just say _we_?" He'd suddenly noticed that she was carrying a pack of her own.

"Yep, that's the deal. I'm coming with you."

"Clarke, you can't! You're needed here. What about the nuclear plants?"

"Yeah, you know what? I'm not really going to be much help with those. I was never very good at physics."

"But, still. This is _my_ problem..."

Clarke sat down on the end of his bed.

"Remember how you asked me if I was going to stay in Arkadia? And I said I would? That I wouldn't leave unless you did? Well, you're leaving, so I am, too."

Her jaw was set, her expression determined.

Bellamy picked up the small white hand that was closest to him and rubbed his thumb gently across her knuckles.

"Clarke," his voice was soft, "I'm not leaving here, I'm just going on a short mission. You said it yourself. I have to be back in a couple of weeks."

Clarke glanced down at their joined hands and sighed, then raised her head to look at him directly.

"Bellamy." Her voice was quiet, her expression earnest. "I don't know what this planet has in store for us next, but I just...I don't want to be separated from you again. I couldn't just stay here and wait for you to come back." Clarke's eyes shifted momentarily before focusing on Bellamy once again. She took a deep breath. "I'd...I'd go crazy with worry."

Bellamy swallowed convulsively as he fought back the rush of emotion that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him.

"Okay," he said softly, capitulating immediately. "You can come."

The brightest smile in Clarke's repertoire was his reward.

"Great," she said happily. "We should get some sleep. I'll just bunk here so we can make an early start tomorrow."

With that, she threw herself down on the other side of his narrow bed, curling into herself. In seconds, it seemed, she was asleep.

Bellamy lay back on his side, scooting over to give her as much room as possible, but it made little difference. Clarke lay on his bed, a mere six inches separating them. Everything he wanted and was afraid he could never have.

The room was silent and his body was tired, but it was still some time before he slept.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Bellamy was in the hangar bay packing the Rover with all the extra gear they would now be able to carry when John Murphy approached him with Emori in tow.

He and Murphy had had their ups and downs since landing on the ground, but Murphy had played an important part in bringing down ALIE. And in saving Clarke's life. For that more than anything, Bellamy had developed kindlier feelings toward Murphy. He didn't know much about Emori, other than that Murphy was crazy about her.

"I hear you're taking a trip," Murphy said, direct as always. "Looking for Octavia."

Bellamy was silent, waiting for Murphy to get to the point. Which was not long in coming.

"You should take us with you."

"Yeah? And why is that?"

"Because Emori knows the territory around here better than anyone in this camp. She knows where every village, trading post, cave, and hidey-hole is. Which ones are okay...and which ones to avoid."

Bellamy glanced at the girl out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise remained impassive.

"I thought she preferred to keep out of sight."

"Yeah, well maybe she's changed her mind..."

"I can talk for myself, John," Emori interrupted suddenly. Bellamy was pretty sure it was the first time he'd heard her speak since they left Polis.

"You're looking for your sister? I think I can help you. And...I think I've been here in this place long enough."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows at Murphy. "You wouldn't be coming back?"

Murphy shrugged. "I dunno," he said, with a sardonic little smile. "Not sure this is the place I want to ride out the end of the world."

Bellamy was still considering their request when Clarke appeared.

"They want to come with us," he told her as she approached.

Clarke's attention shifted to the other two and he knew without asking that her deliberations would be entirely practical. If she decided in the affirmative...

She nodded suddenly, just a quick jerk of her head, and at the same time quirked a brow at him. _I think this might be a good idea, but I'll leave it up to you._

Bellamy agreed. But it would never do to seem too eager.

"Okay, but we do things my way," he said firmly. "You have a suggestion? Great. But this is my search and I'll make the final decisions. And just so we're clear, if you two pull any shit, I'm dumping your asses no matter where the hell we are. I don't care if it's off the edge of a cliff."

Bellamy paused to let that sink in.

"If you can live with that, then you're welcome to tag along."

For just a second, he wondered if his speech had been a little too over-the-top, but then Murphy smirked, and his, "Aye, aye, sir," was accompanied by a smart salute.

"Great." Bellamy had to work hard to suppress an answering smirk. "Get your gear and tell the mess I said you could pull two week's worth of rations. You got fifteen minutes."

As soon as they'd gone, Clarke gave in to the laughter she'd been suppressing. " _Off the edge of a cliff?_ Really? You couldn't come up with a better threat than that for a couple of people looking down the road at nuclear annihilation?"

Clarke went off into fresh peals of laughter as she once again contemplated Bellamy the hardass.

Bellamy grinned. "Shut up," he said without heat.

 _Fuck_ , it was good to hear Clarke laugh again.

**********

They'd decided to start their search at Niylah's trading post, since it was the closest thing to civilization to be found anywhere near the western edge of Polis. As soon as he pulled the Rover to a stop in the clearing in front of the post, Bellamy turned to the two in the back seat.

"Niylah has a lot of good shit in there, and I don't want to find any of it in here when we come out."

"What the hell does that mean..." Murphy began indignantly, but Bellamy cut him off.

"Don't give me that crap. I know all about your light-fingered girlfriend here," he said, looking directly at Emori. "But I swear if you steal so much as a beaded necklace from Niylah, I'll cut off your one good hand."

Clarke gasped. "Bellamy!"

But Emori just laughed. "Yeah, like I haven't heard that threat before. Or that I'd be stupid enough to steal from Niylah. Everyone knows she flipped her knife at some guy in a very, uh, _sensitive_ spot for trying to cheat her. Put a serious dent in his love life. I don't offer the same target, but I'm sure she could get creative. So I'll be extra careful not to cross her."

Bellamy's brow creased as he thought that over. "Good," he said.

They had all exited the vehicle, and he was once again marveling at the pair of giant tusks that hung over the entrance to Niylah's shop when he heard the distinct and unmistakable crack of a gunshot. Without pausing for thought, Bellamy tackled Clarke to the ground and covered her with his body, at the same time wondering who the hell out this way had a gun and might want to use it against them.

He was reaching for his pistol when he saw that Murphy had already run across the clearing and was grabbing a rifle out of the hands of a very perplexed-looking Niylah.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you shoot at all your customers? Or is this the 'new customer' initiation?" Murphy was not given to reining in his annoyance.

With the threat neutralized, Bellamy helped Clarke up and they approached the others.

"Why did you shoot at us, Niylah?" Clarke was bewildered.

Niylah groaned. "Not that you Sky People don't deserve it, but I never meant to shoot. It was an accident. No one's been here in so long that I got a little...nervous...when I heard your vehicle."

Not an explanation that Murphy was prepared to accept.

"An _accident_? Sister, you're a menace! Where the hell did you even get this rifle?"

"That's a good question, Niylah. Where would you get a rifle? Grounders don't use guns." Clarke tried and failed to hold Niylah's gaze.

Niylah sent a furtive glance toward Bellamy, and suddenly he knew.

"From Octavia. You got the rifle from Octavia." She must have taken it from the throne room. Clever, really. She wouldn't want it herself but it would have a high value in trade.

"Why the hell should I tell your murdering ass anything?" Niylah spat at Bellamy, and his heart sank as he acknowledged to himself how little she would want to help him.

"Niylah," Clarke said, taking her elbow and leading her back into the shop, "you just said no one's been around for a long time. I'm pretty sure we can explain why that is. Along with a lot of other stuff you might want to know about. We might even," she glanced at Bellamy, communicating wordlessly, "show you how to use the rifle."

He gave her a nod. Anything to get the information he wanted.

They had all five of them moved into the trading post by then, and Clarke swung Niylah around to face the others.

"But we need to know whatever you can tell us about Octavia. Bellamy is really worried about her."

Niylah opened her mouth but Clarke kept right on talking.

"Yeah, I know you don't care about Bellamy, or how worried he is, but I'm worried, too. We all are. And you will be, too, when you hear what we have to say. So, please. Have you seen Octavia?"

Niylah glanced again at Bellamy, her hostility still evident. And he could hardly blame her.

Bellamy's participation in the attack on the grounder army was something that his conscience would wrestle with for a long time. But right here, right now, it looked like it was not only the moral implications of his actions that would come to haunt him. He'd made a personal enemy of Niylah, whose father had been part of that army, and if that meant he'd never find Octavia...

Clarke's voice broke in on his distressing thoughts, as though she knew just when to pull him out of his head.

"Bellamy, Niylah wants your word that you won't try to force Octavia to go back to Arkadia. I told her that you never break your word."

Bellamy marveled once again at Clarke's capacity for getting people to do what she wanted. He knew she'd worked her magic on him plenty of times in the past, but since this was on his behalf, he wasn't going to complain.

He shook his head, tried to reassure the mistrustful Niylah. "I only want know that she's safe. And that she'll stay safe. For what...might be coming."

Niylah's eyes were hard as they looked at him. "Okay," she said suddenly. "You all keep dropping hints about something. What aren't you telling me?"

Clarke was equally determined. "Octavia?" she insisted.

Niylah sighed, giving in. "Octavia was here more than a week ago. She said there'd been some kind of big battle in Polis and that she had the rifle to trade for travel supplies. And before you ask, she never said exactly where she was going, but I had the feeling it had to do with the man she loved. The one...who died?" Her voice rose in question.

Clarke nodded. "Lincoln. What made you think that? That it had something to do with Lincoln."

"She said..." Niylah paused, recalling, "Octavia said she'd tried doing it her own way but it hadn't made her feel better. So maybe... _someone_...was right. And she was going back to talk to her."

She shrugged. "Or something like that. That's all I can remember."

It was enough. Bellamy understood, and from the expression on her face, so did Clarke. Octavia had killed Pike, but it hadn't made her feel any better about Lincoln's death.

Bellamy had tried his best to make her understand that it wouldn't, but Octavia hadn't wanted to listen. And now she was heading back for another conversation with the other person who'd tried to tell her that she didn't have to follow a path of violence. That there was another way to live her life.

Octavia didn't understand that grief was something that had to be borne. That had to be worked through until you came out the other side. So she was on a quest to find the magic solution - the quick fix - the _something_ that would make her grief go away.

And it looked like Luna was her next stop.

**********

They'd explained it as carefully as they could, but they still couldn't be sure that Niylah either believed or understood what had gone down in Polis. If you hadn't seen first-hand how it affected people - or been held captive by it, like Emori - the City of Light sounded...fantastical.

But in the end it just didn't matter, because that battle was over. Niylah was much more alarmed to hear about the new threat, the one that didn't distinguish between grounder and sky person. The one that would kill them all with equal detachment. They promised to let her know if the danger became imminent.

There was some consternation about how to fulfill the final part of their bargain, teaching Niylah how to use that rifle she'd taken in trade. Clarke was no help, since she'd never really learned to handle a rifle properly. And Murphy flat-out refused to teach the crazy trading post girl how to become even more of a menace.

So in the end, it was Bellamy who taught Niylah how to use the gun. He was the last person she wanted to learn from, of course, and the time they were forced to spend in each others' company was equally wretched for them both. Bellamy found it a particularly excruciating penance.

"Don't think this lets you off the hook," Niylah said, her eyes hard and accusing, when he'd finally pronounced her rifle skills sufficiently proficient.

"I'll never be off the hook," he told her quietly.

Bellamy saw the surprise flash across her face, and then it was gone. To be replaced by the unforgiving look she'd worn all day. "Good," she said, as Bellamy expected. As he knew he deserved.

All aspects of their deal with Niylah had been completed by late afternoon, and while Clarke suggested they spend the night there and make an early start the following morning, Bellamy was eager to follow Octavia's path and insisted they needed to leave immediately. When he tried hurry Clarke out to the Rover, he saw that she was deep in conversation with Niylah.

A conversation he could easily overhear, even though he was several feet away. And after Niylah's first words, he was rooted to the spot.

"Are you sure you're safe with him?" she was asking Clarke quietly, her voice full of concern.

"With Bellamy? He's the one person I'm always safe with, Niylah. Please don't worry about me."

"But..." Niylah sounded unconvinced.

Clarke's tone was reassuring. "He's risked his life for me over and over. And I know he'd do it again without a thought."

"And you? Would you do the same?"

Bellamy barely breathed as he waited for her soft reply,

"Of course," she said. "In a heartbeat."

He turned away then, emotion coursing through him, but not before he saw Clarke pull Niylah into a farewell embrace. Clarke's back was to him, but he could see Niylah's face, and he suddenly knew that the relationship between the two girls was far more personal than he'd ever imagined.

Bellamy quickly made his way to the Rover, telling himself not to be an idiot, reminding himself sternly that it was none of his business what Niylah may have been to Clarke. Willing his face not to give away what he'd learned.

But she could always read him like a book.

They were only a few miles down the narrow track that led away from the trading post when Clarke turned to him suddenly.

"Bellamy." Her voice was tentative. "About Niylah..."

Bellamy didn't pretend to misunderstand, but neither was he owed any explanations. They were not...it wasn't _like_ that with them. Never had been. Probably never would be.

"None of my business," he said quickly.

He glanced over at Clarke just in time to see the mutinous look that crossed her face. The one that meant she'd decided to tell him something and nothing he could say would dissuade her.

Bellamy sighed as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. He certainly wasn't having this conversation with a curious Murphy and Emori hanging onto every word.

He could see Clarke winding up to protest his last remark, but before she could open her mouth, he gave her a tiny nod and side-eyed the two in the back seat. Clarke let out a breath in frustration but he knew she was no more eager than he to have an audience.

She settled back into the seat with a sigh, but he wasn't so foolish as to think that that particular conversation was over.

They'd driven barely twenty miles over rough terrain when darkness began to fall, and they stopped for the night under a secluded copse of trees. As they ate their tasteless rations, Bellamy prepared himself for hours of wakefulness. But despite the emotional day he'd spent and the discomfort of bunking down in the Rover, his exhausted body was asleep within minutes.

When they awoke the next day, it was to a darkening sky and a Rover that was only partially charged. They could wait for a full charge or they could try to get as far as possible before the impending storm broke. They decided to move.

It turned out to be an unwise choice.

A couple of hours later, the storm broke in fierce waves of lashing rain. The temperature plummeted, and if that weren't enough, the Rover got stuck when their smooth dirt track suddenly turned into a bog. They spent the last of the Rover's charge trying to free the vehicle, but only succeeded in further miring it in the mud.

"Bellamy! Forget it!" Murphy had to yell to make himself heard over the rain that pounded on the Rover's metal roof. "We'll have to wait until it's charged again and the track dries out."

Bellamy knew he was right, and when he saw Clarke shiver suddenly, he realized they had a more immediate problem.

"It's going to be too cold to stay in the Rover tonight. We need to find someplace where we can have a fire."

"In this rain? You're out of your fucking mind."

Bellamy knew Murphy was probably right, but dammit! They were cold. _Clarke_ was cold. He used his hand to wipe away the foggy film that had formed inside the side window, peering out into the storm as though the answer to his problem would appear if only he looked hard enough.

"Grab whatever you can carry, whatever you think you'll need. I know where we can go."

It was Emori who had spoken, and Murphy and Clarke had immediately begun gathering up their belongings. But Bellamy needed more before he ceded his responsibilities to someone else. Someone he didn't know and had little reason to trust.

"Yeah? And where is that?" He knew hadn't succeeded in keeping the skepticism from his voice.

Emori chuckled. "You're welcome to stay here if you want, but it's gonna get colder than a witch's tit, so you might wanna rethink that."

Bellamy sighed. "At least tell me what you have in mind."

"Hey! If you don't want to come, Bellamy, you can stay here, like she said." Murphy's annoyance was palpable.

"Bellamy..." Clarke placed her hand gently on his arm. "She knows the ground better than any of us. Get your stuff and let's go."

He knew she was right, knew he didn't have to come up with every answer, handle every situation personally. Reminded himself that in this situation he didn't even have an answer. But things always seemed to get fucked up when he followed someone else's lead. So it was hard to let go.

But Clarke had decided it would be okay, and he trusted Clarke's judgment.

It was a twenty minute walk in a torrential rainstorm, and more than once Bellamy wondered if he'd been right to trust Emori. Just as he was winding up to call _bullshit_ on her phantom shelter, Emori stopped short. If she hadn't known exactly where it was, they would have completely missed the entrance to the cave. Or rather, into a series of caves that ran under the edge of an enormous mountain.

The air inside was musty and stale, but it was clear that the space had been used for shelter before. The floor of the cave was littered with the remains of earlier fires, and Bellamy wasted no time in starting one of his own.

"Wet clothes off!" Clarke said immediately, and they all removed as many garments as they could while still retaining some dignity. "Socks, too," she reminded them, alive to the dangers of not letting their feet dry properly.

Their wet clothes were laid out near the fire to dry while they unpacked enough rations to have a makeshift dinner. Bellamy hoped they'd be able to hunt someday soon so they could supplement their rations, because he was sick of the tasteless protein packs.

"How did you happen to know about this cave?" Clarke asked Emori, breaking the awkward silence that had settled amongst them as they sat around the fire after their meal.

Emori shrugged. "There's always shit weather to escape. And shit people. Me and Otan..."

Her voice broke suddenly, and Bellamy realized this was the first time he'd ever seen her show emotion. But the now-dead Otan was her brother and Bellamy understood.

"I'm sorry about your brother," he said suddenly. "It shouldn't have happened."

"Yeah," Emori said softly. Then she gave a little sigh and blinked away the sadness. Was herself again.

"Otan found this cave when we were little, before... _nomon_ died."

Bellamy nodded. He understood about that, too.

Murphy stood suddenly, pulling Emori up. "Why don't we do a little cave exploring?" he said, but the look on his face told a different story.

Emori laughed. "Let's," she agreed, and they quickly moved farther into the system of caves, until eventually their voices were only a murmur of sound.

Bellamy wondered aloud if it wouldn't be better security if they all stayed together, but Clarke gave him an incredulous look.

"Bellamy! Let them have some privacy."

He shrugged and nodded. Grabbed a blanket and lay down. Tried to decipher the look on Clarke's face. When she lay down next to him, he expected her to curl into herself like she had that night in his room. But instead, she rolled over and snuggled against his body.

"Warmer this way," she said. And he had to agree. Every part of him was heating up quickly.

To distract himself from the press of her ample breasts against his chest, Bellamy said the first thing that came into his head.

"Uh, do you think Murphy and Emori will be long? We should set up a watch."

Clarke burst out laughing, and as happy as he always was to hear her laugh, he knew without a doubt that she was laughing _at_ him.

"I think they're kinda busy," she said, still smirking. "And we can survive without them."

"Um, yeah," he said, eager to leave the subject behind.

Suddenly Clarke raised herself on her elbow and peered down at him suspiciously.

"Bellamy Blake! Are you...embarrassed?"

"Uh..." How the fuck could he tell her that he didn't give a shit what the hell Murphy and Emori were getting up to but that the press of Clarke's body against his was awakening all kinds of desires within him that he knew he shouldn't - _couldn't_ \- allow.

For once, thankfully, she read him wrong.

"You _are_ embarrassed! You, the guy who had the girls lining up to get into his tent when we first landed in the drop ship."

Bellamy relaxed with a laugh. He could easily handle _this_ conversation.

"Bullshit! There weren't that many girls. And besides..." He paused, recalling the uncertainty and the fear of those early days, when he wondered how the hell he would be able take care of Octavia and himself. Recalled the comfort of those warm and willing bodies.

"What?" she asked, suddenly sober.

Bellamy sighed. "I didn't know what the hell I was doing back then. I didn't know...you."

"I remember those days," she said. "You always seemed like you knew exactly what to do."

Bellamy huffed a laugh. "I was scared shitless. And the girls? They were a comfort. And I like to think I was some comfort to them, too," he added after a time.

Remembered Roma and the others. All gone now. All dead.

Clarke curled back into his side. "I can...understand that. It's why I wanted to explain to you yesterday about Niylah."

"Clarke, you don't have to explain anything to me. It's none of my damn business."

"Bellamy," she said, dropping her eyes and clutching at his shirt. "I just...I don't want there to be any secrets between us. So please, I need to explain."

"Okay," he said softly. Who was he to refuse her something that she needed?

Clarke sighed and began. "I'd been by myself for so long, out there in the forest. Niylah was one of the few people I saw when I went there to trade, and just about the only one I ever spoke to. And then I heard, here and there, that they were after me. That everyone was after me. That I'd become some sort of...prize. And I tried not to be, but I was so scared."

Bellamy's heart clenched as she told her tale, and he imagined her alone and afraid.

"A panther," she paused, shuddering softly, and he could only imagine what terrors she was recalling. "A panther had clawed me, and Nylah cleaned it up for me. I was...filthy, and she washed away the dirt. She was so gentle and so kind. And right then I needed that so badly. The comfort of a gentle touch. And...to feel something again. To feel _alive_."

"Yeah, I can understand that," Bellamy said after a while, his voice choked with sympathy. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

He pulled her tightly against him and forgot about everything except Clarke's need for comfort. Then and now.

"You had your own demons, Bellamy. I understand that now. Although at the time, I selfishly thought I was the only one."

Her voice was muffled as she unburdened herself to his t-shirt-covered chest.

"But you've forgiven me for abandoning you. Now I just have to try to forgive myself."

Bellamy hugged her tightly, his entire being suffused with an emotion he could easily identify - and just as stubbornly refuse to name.

"So," he said finally, softly. "Are all your secrets out now?"

"Not all," Clarke said sleepily, curling into him once again. "But maybe...one at a time."


	4. Chapter 4

The rain continued steadily throughout the night, finally petering out to a fine mist toward morning. By the time the sun peeked out over the eastern horizon, it had stopped entirely.

As soon as he saw the sunshine, Bellamy wanted to leave the cave and return to the Rover. They'd already lost a day to the bad weather and he was anxious to get to Luna's rig as soon as possible, because who knew when they'd ever get another clue to Octavia's whereabouts. And who knew how long they'd have to feed the signal fire by the stone pillars before Luna let them on board. Or if she even would.

But Murphy pointed out that the mud under the Rover's tires needed time to dry out into hard-packed dirt. And Clarke reminded him that it would take at least a few hours of sunlight for the Rover to recharge. So he was forced to swallow his impatience while they moved their still-damp clothing out of doors to dry on a large boulder.

By mid-morning, Bellamy's self-control had worn thin and he couldn't seem to stop fidgeting. But they'd followed Emori's footsteps through the pouring rain to this place of refuge, and he knew he had only the vaguest idea of how to get back to the vehicle. Dammit! He fucking _hated_ being dependent on anyone else.

"Just give me the directions," he finally begged Emori in desperation, when she made no move to leave. "I can at least start freeing the Rover."

"Directions. In the middle of this forest." Her tone was dry. "You've only been out this way once before. You'd end up walking around in circles or falling into the river."

She shook her head, sighing. "We'd better go, John, before he completely loses his shit."

But Bellamy thought she didn't seem wholly unsympathetic.

Within minutes they had packed their gear and were trudging single-file along a barely visible pathway through the densely-wooded forest. Bellamy could feel his anxiety about Octavia increase with every step.

Yesterday, when they'd been pinned down by the torrential rain, when their transportation had been mired in the muck, it had been okay for him to shove his worries aside. To allow himself to forget for just a few hours why they were here and where they were headed. To enjoy the moments of light-hearted conversation and friendly companionship. To savor the comfort of Clarke's soft curves as they nestled against his side while they slept.

But today they were back to business and his impatience to be on his way returned in full force.

When they finally reached the Rover, Bellamy was relieved to find that it now had a full charge. And that the mud that had been caked halfway up the vehicle's wheels had now dried into thick heavy bricks of dirt that they were able to remove with a little muscle and a few whacks with a shovel. The Rover had created quite a rut in the track, and as they finally pulled out of it, Bellamy hoped it wouldn't trip up some unwary future traveler.

They drove for the rest of the day without incident, stopping early enough for the Rover to recharge in the spring sun. The forest was teeming with small woodland creatures, and Bellamy suggested that he and Murphy spend what little daylight they had left hunting to supplement their food stores.

"Good idea." Emori was enthusiastic. "I don't know how you can eat that awful stuff you call food."

Clarke laughed. "Farm station couldn't grow enough food on the Ark to keep everyone alive. So those protein packs were the difference between life and death. But I have to admit I never noticed how horrible they were until after I'd tasted food grown on the ground. Now we mostly just use them when we travel."

Later, they built a small fire and roasted the two fat rabbits that Bellamy and Murphy had caught, then lapsed into companionable silence. The weather had improved and the temperature risen enough for them to sleep out of doors for the first time since they'd left Arkadia.

Bellamy thought that Murphy and Emori might disappear into the woods for some more private time, and he reminded himself not to be a dick about it. But they didn't, instead contenting themselves with a few kisses as they cuddled together on Murphy's bedroll.

Bellamy also thought that, unlike the night before when they'd huddled together for warmth, Clarke would settle down several feet away from him. But that didn't happen either. Instead, she curled up into his side, her hand resting lightly across his stomach.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked tentatively, and Bellamy smiled wryly into the darkness.

"Of course not," he said softly, slipping his arm around her. "I like to feel useful," he added, trying to bring some levity to the situation. Hoping that she wouldn't feel him tremble or hear the pounding of his heart.

Bellamy sighed. He knew he was in deep shit.

**********

It was another full day of travel before they reached the small clearing and the circle of dry-wall pillars. They left the Rover in the same location as the first time they'd come to see Luna and traveled down the narrow pathway to the stone circle.

They hadn't been there more than a minute before Emori announced her intention to leave.

"I can't stay here," she said suddenly, her voice agitated.

Murphy looked at her in confusion.

"What's the problem, babe? Our two fearless leaders have been here before and returned in one piece. Right, guys?" He looked to Bellamy and Clarke for confirmation.

"Emori, please don't be afraid of this place. We had some trouble the last time we were here, but that was ALIE, and we're the ones - _I was the one_ \- who brought her here. Bellamy and I will be lucky if Luna even lets us aboard her ship this time."

Clarke spoke in quiet tones, hoping to soothe the suddenly distressed Emori.

"But you have nothing to fear from Luna. She accepts everyone, as long as they swear off violence."

But the other girl was shaking her head, not even listening.

"I've never lived with any of the clans. Until I took that damn chip. None of them ever wanted...my kind."

Murphy slapped his palm against his forehead, realization flooding him.

"Of course you didn't. I knew that. So when I saw you selling food in the market in Polis, I guess...I should've known you'd been chipped."

Emori shrugged. "Yes, John, you should've known, but it doesn't matter now. Before... it was about my hand, but I don't care about that anymore," she said, studying the misshapen appendage indifferently. "I just know I'd feel...trapped...on that boat." Her chin lifted. "I'll stay behind."

"Are you sure...?" Clarke began, but Murphy interrupted.

"Hey, if she wants to stay, she stays," he said testily, picking up their gear. "We'll wait with the Rover."

"I don't know how long we'll be here," Bellamy reminded him. "Because I'm not losing this chance to find Octavia, no matter how long it takes."

Murphy nodded and patted a pocket on his pants. "Still got the walkie-talkie. Call if you need us. But we should leave right now while it's still light enough to find our way back."

**********

Bellamy lit the signal fire as soon as the others had disappeared down the trail, and he and Clarke began stockpiling kindling so that they could feed the fire all night.

As the darkness began to descend, Bellamy imagined his sister sitting in this same place for who knows how long, only her solitary campfire for company. Had it been hours...or days...before Luna's men had come to retrieve her? He marveled anew at how strong she'd become, how determined. And felt it his own personal failure that along with her strength and determination she had not also learned restraint. Or patience. Or the ability to consider someone else's point of view.

He and Clarke said little, too focused on the need to keep the fire going, and too exhausted to engage in discourse.

They napped in shifts, determined to feed the flame throughout the long night, but eventually, toward morning, they both drifted off to sleep.

Bellamy awoke with a start as the sun began to rise, the first licks of light penetrating his consciousness.

"Shit!" He moved to restart the fire, but Clarke's voice stopped him.

"Bellamy," she said groggily, "we can't possibly keep this fire going day and night. They must have seen it from the oil rig already. Luna knows someone's here. They'll come when they feel like it."

Bellamy felt a tightness in his chest. He knew she was probably right, but he found it impossible to sit there and do nothing. They'd already lost a day to the rain, and he didn't think he could deal with several hours of sitting still. His pursuit of Octavia had to involve some activity. Some movement.

Clarke sighed, and when she spoke, he wondered once again if she could somehow read his mind.

"How about this?" she asked. "It's easier for them to see the light at night, so let's spend the day gathering up branches and we can try the signal fire again tonight. We'll nap later on so we can make it through the night without falling asleep."

He nodded once, grateful to have a plan. Any plan.

They ate, and foraged for kindling, and ate again. The pile of branches, twigs, and leaves stacked against one of the stone pillars had become enormous by the time they decided to stop for their nap. Bellamy lay down on his bedroll and Clarke, as had become her habit, lay down next to him.

She'd always given him a reason why she did this. It was cold, or it was dark, or they were sheltering in a new and unknown spot. But the day was warm and sunny, the clearing was open, and they'd been there in that place for a while now.

Clarke cleared her throat. "Bellamy..." she began uncertainly.

"You know I sleep better when I know where you are," he said quickly, forestalling her explanation. Whatever it was going to be this time.

She sighed in what sounded very much like relief. "Me, too," she said, settling her head on his shoulder, her hand falling across his chest. They were asleep in no time.

The light was waning when Bellamy awoke. His arm tingled from hours of sheltering Clarke's head as they slept, and he tried to remove it without waking her. But the pins and needles had barely begun to dissipate when he heard her voice.

"Is it time to start the fire?" she asked. Bellamy looked over as her half-lidded eyes gazed up at him sleepily, and he felt the sudden unmistakeable stirrings of desire. They couldn't seem to look away from one another, and for a long moment he felt like he could barely breathe.

Then Clarke blinked, and Bellamy turned away, gasping for air. "Gotta pee," he said, rising quickly and moving towards the closest patch of woods.

By the time he got back, Clarke had rolled up the blankets and pulled out some rations from their packs.

"We should eat," she said, not quite looking at him. "You never know when we might get another chance."

He nodded his agreement, sitting beside her in the dirt to devour a couple of protein bars. Fervently hoping she wouldn't notice his discomfort. That he wasn't wearing it like a cloak.

"They'll come tonight," Clarke said confidently. "Luna won't take the chance of not knowing who's found them and what they might want."

Bellamy's eyes closed briefly as he gave voice to his greatest fear.

"And what if they _do_ come, Clarke, see it's us, and refuse to take us to Luna? What if they won't tell us anything about Octavia? What if...what if she's _there_ , but they keep me from her?"

He jumped up, suddenly too agitated to sit still. Clarke reached up, tugged on his hand.

"Sit down, Bellamy. Please. The only thing we can get from Luna is information. And we will. Octavia...if she was ever there...she's gone."

"How do you know?" he asked, reluctantly letting her pull him down.

"Because where's Octavia's horse? She would have left it here, tethered. Close to food and water."

She waved her hand all around the clearing, letting that sink in.

"So we're already too late." Despair was beginning to gnaw at him.

Clarke grabbed his hand again, her face determined.

"We're _not_. Luna will have some idea where she's headed next. I know it."

"And if she won't see us?"

"Then I'll beg, Bellamy. Because if she won't see us, that's on me. I'm the one she's angry with."

"That's bullshit! We all brought ALIE to the rig. We didn't mean to, didn't know we were doing it..."

But Clarke wasn't having it.

"Yeah, but _I'm_ the one who tried to force Luna to take the flame. To become the Commander when she'd already refused. I-I assaulted her with it...and she kicked my ass."

Clarke shook her head, her face full of sorrow and regret.

"I was no better than ALIE."

Bellamy grabbed her shoulders. "Clarke, don't be stupid. You were trying to save everyone on the planet. ALIE was..."

"Trying to save everyone, too, Bellamy. But she's just a machine. She doesn't understand about things like free will." Clarke paused, raised her chin, accepted her self-censure. "But I don't have that excuse."

Her breath escaped on a long sigh.

"It was unforgivable. But I just wanted...I'd promised..." She stopped suddenly, glanced at him warily.

"Yeah, I know, Clarke. You'd promised Lexa."

She shook her head. "No, not Lexa, Titus. But I owed her that much at least. After everything."

Clarke's eyes filled with tears, and as much as he'd despised Lexa, Bellamy knew that Clarke had cared for her. His chest was tight with sympathy as he recalled his own anger and grief when Gina died.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, drawing her in close. "It wasn't your fault, what happened to Lexa."

"But it was," she said, her tears spilling over as she held onto him. "Titus tried to kill me, with a gun he'd gotten ahold of somewhere."

"A gun? Lexa was shot?" Bellamy was startled. He knew Murphy had been there at the time, but Murphy had never explained how it had gone down. And Bellamy hadn't asked.

"Yes," Clarke nodded, the tears falling freely now. "He was trying to get rid of me, and he shot her by accident. And it was so stupid, Bellamy," she looked up at him, and he could see the utter frustration on her face. "I was leaving. I'd already told her I was going back to Arkadia. We'd already...said goodbye."

"So then _why_...?"

"Titus hated me because he thought she was making decisions for my sake, decisions he didn't agree with. That she was putting my people ahead of her own."

She gave a tiny shrug.

"And maybe he was right. But I had to try any way I could to keep our people safe. That's why I'd stayed there in the first place. Agreed to be... _Wanheda_. Lexa said if I showed her people that she had _Wanheda_ on her side, it would strengthen her coalition. And everyone in Arkadia would be safe. She promised me."

"But it didn't turn out that way," he reminded her.

Clarke shook her head.

"No. But she tried, Bellamy. She really did. But some of them - like Nia, Roan's mother - were working against her behind her back. And when I saw that, how alone she really was, even when she was surrounded by all her people, I felt..." She paused

"You felt _what_?"

She sighed heavily. "I felt like I could see her differently. And that surprised me. Because when I first got to Polis, I hated her because she'd left us at the mountain. Forced us to do...what we did."

She looked at him squarely, her expression earnest, as if her whole being was heavy with the burden of trying to make him see how it had been.

"But I just couldn't hold onto the hate, Bellamy. It was eating away at me. Hurting me as much as I tried to hurt her. So after a while, I just decided to...let it go."

He nodded slowly, trying to understand. "So when things started to go wrong for her, you felt...sympathy."

"Not at first." She shook her head briefly. "At first I was just worried that the coalition would fall apart. That there'd be all-out war, and that we - all of our people - would be caught in the middle. That's what I was trying to tell you when I came to Arkadia."

Bellamy sighed, recalled his anger, his feelings of betrayal that she'd stayed in Polis. That she'd ever left at all. And was appalled when he suddenly remembered his own ill-considered action.

"I should never have tried to keep you there against your will."

"I'm sorry you felt you needed to. But I had to get back. It was the only way I could be sure they wouldn't attack after..."

Bellamy cut her off.

"After we killed her army."

His lips pressed together in a tight line. "That was _my_ anger, Clarke, _my_ hate. I let it build up and I couldn't find a way to let it go, like you did. I told myself I was doing the right thing, keeping Arkadia safe. But really, I just went back to being a monster."

He knew he could never find the words to make her understand why he'd followed Pike down that path. Hell, he couldn't even explain it to himself.

"But that attack wasn't just you, Bellamy. You weren't even the one who gave the order. That was Pike. He was the chancellor, and he must have thought it was necessary..."

He shook his head, refusing Clarke's attempt to let him off the hook.

"No. I could have stopped it. I _could_ have...and I _should_ have." He let out a breath in frustration. It was a conversation he'd had with himself a million times before. "But I didn't."

"You can't know that." She was insistent. "No one can say for sure what might have happened if you'd tried to stop Pike."

"I do know it," he said with finality, his insides twisted at all the ways he'd let them down. Let Clarke down.

He closed his eyes on the thought, and when he opened them a moment later, he noted the reds and oranges that were coloring the sky.

"It's going to be dark soon. I think we should get the signal fire going."

**********

Where the night before they'd settled in front of the fire side by side, in easy companionship, now they sat across from each other in near silence as they took turns feeding the flames. It was as if they'd gone back to that day in Arkadia, when they'd been so at odds.

Bellamy's chest felt heavy with unhappiness as he considered how unworthy he was of Clarke's regard. It was no wonder she sat so far away.

"So is this how it's going to be, then?"

Her voice, reaching him from across the flickering firelight, was tight and flat.

"Huh?" He looked up, surprised.

She didn't try to hide her frustrated sigh.

"I mean...are we not speaking?"

The constriction in Bellamy's chest loosened ever so slightly.

"I'm speaking to you," he said. "But I thought maybe you didn't have anything to say to me. After...everything I did."

The firelight reflected back on Clarke's face and he watched as the corners of her mouth turned up. She shook her head, at the same time uncoiling herself from her position on the ground and crawling around the fire on all fours until she was sitting right next to him.

"Much better," she said, grabbing a branch from his pile and tossing it into the fire.

Clarke was silent for a few moments, and he could almost sense her gathering herself. She cleared her throat.

"Bellamy, what you did...you and Pike and the others...I know you couldn't have known those warriors were there to protect you. And after what I let happen at TonDC, how could I judge you? So that day - the day I came to Arkadia to talk to you - all I could think about was how I could fix it so everything didn't get worse."

She paused, and he could feel her choosing her words.

"I expected you to see things my way, but that wasn't fair of me. I know that now. I'd been gone all that time, and I didn't understand how much everything had changed. So many things had happened that I didn't know anything about. So many new people had come into your lives. Everyone from Farm Station. Pike." She sighed softly. "Gina."

When she continued, her voice was so soft he could barely hear her, even though she was only inches away.

"And all that time I was so busy thinking about strategies and politics, about how much I needed you to persuade everyone in Arkadia that I had all the answers, that I never once thought about how you might feel. That it would seem to you like I had...abandoned you."

Clarke stopped, took a breath, as though gathering strength to force out her next words. "I just didn't expect your anger, Bellamy. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. So there we were, and not only wouldn't you help me, but it felt like we weren't even friends anymore. Like we might never be friends again."

Her voice trailed off on a sigh or a sob. He wasn't sure which.

"And I hated it."

Bellamy glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but she was still staring into the fire, still mindlessly tossing in kindling as she spoke.

"Clarke," he began, distressed, but she wasn't finished.

"No, I understand. We've already had that conversation. In fact," she gave him the tiniest of smiles and nodded out towards the water, "I think it was right down there on that beach."

Yeah, he remembered, too. _That_ anger he'd found a way to let go of. In truth, the wonder wasn't that he'd let go of his anger at Clarke, but that he'd ever been able to hold onto it for as long as he had.

"So," she continued after a moment, "when you wouldn't listen, wouldn't help, I needed a friend because I knew that I couldn't fix everything by myself. And the most important thing was to keep you all safe."

He got it in an instant. "And Lexa was that friend."

"Yeah," she nodded. "She was there for me, and I could see how alone _she_ really was, even surrounded by all her people." She sighed. "So we were there for each other. I wasn't sure if I trusted her, but I needed her. And...she'd promised."

"And that's when...you fell for her." He knew it was true, knew he had to acknowledge it, but his throat was so dry when he said the words that he wasn't sure how he'd got them out.

He caught the edge of her wry little smile. "That's when I _let myself_ fall for her. Before that, I'd...kept away."

She finally tore her eyes away from the flames, turned to look at him.

"I know you didn't like her. Why would you? But in so many ways, she was a lot like me. Inside, she was just a girl, doing the best she could to hold it all together with everyone against her."

Bellamy almost choked, biting his tongue hard to stop himself from protesting that Lexa was _nothing_ like Clarke. That she didn't have anything like Clarke's generous heart. That Clarke could never be like the duplicitous, self-serving Lexa. He held back only because he knew she wouldn't want to hear it. But he couldn't stop one question from slipping out.

"And what about Mt. Weather? Did she ever say she was sorry for leaving us there to die after we were the ones who made it possible for her to get her people out? Maybe even admit she was wrong?"

He tried like hell to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.

A moment passed and Bellamy thought she wasn't going to answer, but finally Clarke gave a quick shake to her head.

"She couldn't, Bellamy. She was brought up in this culture that told her that everything the Commander did was right. She was never wrong. And she should never be sorry."

Bellamy turned to her, astonished.

"And you could have been with someone like that? If she'd lived?"

He couldn't imagine it. Not for himself and not for Clarke.

But there was no hesitation now as Clarke shook her head again.

"No. It was never going to be like that with us. I loved her," he could hear the sorrow as she said the words, "but I knew we could never be together. Not really. That she wasn't _that_ person for me."

" _That_ person? What does that mea..."

But he never got a chance to finish his question.

There were at least a half dozen of them, and they'd come up the beach so quickly and so silently that he and Clarke were surrounded before they ever realized they weren't alone. Bellamy breathed in and focused on remaining still.

"More Skaikru," the tallest one said, his tone a cross between resignation and contempt.

Bellamy heard the "more" and his heartbeat quickened. Octavia _must_ have been there. He spoke up quickly.

"I know Luna's angry at us, but I need to know what's happened to my sister. If you could just give Luna my message, we can wait..."

"Luna's been expecting you," the tall Floukru said drily, pulling out two familiar vials.

"Drink," he commanded, handing one to each of them.

As he had the first time, Bellamy focused his eyes and his mind on Clarke as he tipped the contents into his mouth and took the next step towards finding out exactly what had become of Octavia.


	5. Chapter 5

His eyes snapped open, and for a few confused seconds Bellamy drew a blank. But then it all came rushing back. The signal fire. The Floukru. Another dose of sleepytime juice.

He stretched his cramped body and looked around, noting with surprise that unlike their first visit to the oil rig, this time they hadn't been left inside an empty shipping container. Instead, he found himself on a tiny cot in a small cabin, the room itself so narrow that he was pretty sure if he stretched out his arm he could just manage to brush the tips of his fingers against Clarke, who lay on a similar cot along the opposite wall.

Bellamy knew from his last experience with the drug that although he was awake it would be some time before he was fully alert. As his head cleared, he became concerned that Clarke had not yet woken. His larger frame would process the drug more quickly, but still...

Alarm was just beginning to creep up his spine when he heard her first stirrings from across the narrow room. She shifted on the bed, apparently struggling to reorient herself.

"Bellamy?" Her voice was agitated as she rolled herself away from the wall. He saw the incipient panic die when she realized he was in the room with her.

"I'm here," he said reassuringly. And when he extended his arm towards Clarke, he found that he'd been right. He could close the distance between them. Or perhaps it helped that she was reaching towards him as well. Bellamy grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together.

"These accommodations are a lot better than our last visit," she said with a wry smile, her head cradled in the crook of her other arm. "I wonder why we're getting the hospitality suite."

"Maybe Luna's heard about us saving the world," he suggested with a smirk. "Including her ass."

"That must be it," Clarke agreed with a laugh.

The door to the cabin flew open suddenly, and Bellamy and Clarke pulled away from each other, strangely self-conscious.

It was the tall Floukru who'd spoken to them by the signal fire. He grunted when he saw they were awake.

"At last," he said. "You Skaikru do not recover from the sleeping liquid as quickly as others have. Luna has been kept waiting."

Bellamy knew he hadn't completely lost his sense of humor when he found himself amused by Luna's annoyance at their slow recovery from the drug that they'd been gently coerced into taking.

_(Want to visit my clan? Hear what I know about your sister? No problem. Just take this drug.)_

But he supposed he was lucky she'd see them at all. Considering what had happened the first time around.

**********

When he and Clarke followed the tall grounder - Armin - into the common room, they found Luna seated in her customary spot against the wall. But this time she was noticeably alone. Bellamy recalled with sadness Luna's partner Derrick, a man she'd loved but had been forced to kill after he'd been chipped by ALIE. The familiar wash of guilt swept over him, but then he recalled Kane's words. And remembered that he and Clarke and Raven and Murphy - and so many others - had kept ALIE from making a return trip to the Floukru hideaway.

Bellamy sighed. It helped a little. But somehow, not nearly enough.

He'd spent some time considering how best to approach Luna with his request, but as it turned out he needn't have bothered. Before he could open his mouth, he heard Clarke gather herself and begin to speak.

"Luna." He recognized her tone immediately. Earnest, sincere, sympathetic. Clarke at her most convincing. Or so he hoped.

Luna nodded and Clarke continued.

"It was generous of you to see us after what happened the last time we were here. I was wrong to try to force you to become Commander. No one has the right to dictate how another person lives their life."

She paused. Shook her head ruefully.

"I could explain that we were desperate, and that would be true, but it makes no difference. That's something that I had to learn, Luna. That it matters how you reach your goal, regardless of how important it is. And that there's always another way. One that doesn't take away someone else's free will."

Clarke sighed heavily, as though getting through that little speech had lifted a weight from her chest.

"So," she finished quietly, "I hope you can forgive me. If not today, then some day."

Bellamy could sense Clarke's guilt rolling off her in waves, and felt the familiar frustration that she always thought she had to bear it alone. They'd discussed it. He'd reluctantly agreed to her lame-assed plan to force the flame on Luna. He was just as culpable.

"Luna," he said, before Clarke could stop him, "Clarke may have acted alone but she had my support. So we're equally at fault."

He hoped Luna wouldn't refuse to help him with Octavia after this admission, but it had to be said.

Clarke glared at him. "There was no need for you to say that, Bellamy," she said testily. "I had this handled."

"Yeah, well who asked you to?" he shot right back, equally annoyed.

Luna was laughing suddenly, and staring at them like they were some kind of mutant specimen she'd never seen before. One that lacked good sense.

She was still chuckling when she invited them to sit down, and asked Armin to bring them all some refreshments.

"I haven't felt much like laughing lately, but your argument about which of you is the bigger imbecile was very entertaining. I'm happy to end that dispute. You both acted without honor and are equally at fault."

She nodded to Clarke. "And I'm also happy to hear that you now understand that you may not try to impose your will on someone, no matter how just you think your cause. And besides," she added, with a wave of her hand, "you were able to defeat your enemy without my help. So, you see? There was another way after all, Clarke."

 _What the fuck?_ This remark struck Bellamy as being just a shade too smug, and he was surprised to feel his guilt morph into sudden anger.

" _Our_ enemy, Luna? That's what you think? That _we_ were the only ones in danger?" He knew his tone revealed his outrage, and that he was probably doing himself no favors if he wanted Luna's help.

Bellamy felt Clarke's hand on his arm. "It's over, Bellamy, and there's no point in rehashing what happened," she said quietly.

He was still fuming, but he stood down, and Clarke turned back to Luna.

"You're right, Luna. We defeated the machine. And I wish I could say that all our worries ended there. But we've learned that we face an even graver threat to our lives."

Luna's eyebrows rose slightly. She was only mildly interested.

"Ah, I see. More threats. You have not come back to try again to convince me to take the flame and become Commander, have you, Clarke? Perhaps using sweet words this time instead of force?"

Clarke shook her head quickly. "I no longer carry the flame with me, Luna."

Bellamy was momentarily startled. _Clarke no longer carried that damed box with her everywhere she went? When had that happened?_

But there was no time for that conversation right now, while she was still trying to convince Luna that she had only honorable intentions.

"So you're in no danger from either me or my sweet words, Luna. We came to see you for only two reasons, and this new threat is one of them. You need to be prepared."

Clarke hesitated, and Bellamy wondered what words she would choose to explain the concept of "nuclear meltdown" to someone like Luna. But he was never to find out.

Luna held up her hand, palm out, as if to ward off an evil spirit. As if, Bellamy thought with wry amusement, she could remove the danger simply by knowing nothing about it.

"I'm sure you will defeat this new threat, as you did the last." Luna shrugged her dismissal. "But if not, it will not find us out here. And if it does, we'll defend ourselves. So I don't need to know about it."

"But, Luna!" Clarke was aghast. "This isn't an enemy you can defeat with knives and spears. This is...science," she finished lamely.

Bellamy could see Clarke's frustration and he was suddenly fed up with Luna's obstinacy. Rejecting the grounders' cultural obsession with violence was understandable, even laudable. But expecting that she could ignore the world around her forever was...naive.

But in many ways, it was all academic.

"Never mind, Clarke," he said flatly. "If we find a way to fix this, it won't matter if she ever knew. And if we don't...it still won't matter."

He watched as she mulled that over and finally accepted the truth of it. "Maybe you're right," she said, reluctantly dropping the subject.

Luna shifted her attention to Bellamy then. "And your second reason for paying me this visit is that you are in search of your sister." It was a statement, not a question. To Luna, it was clearly the reason she had expected to hear.

Bellamy stiffened, fearing she might tell him that despite his entertainment value, his dishonorable and challenging behavior had barred him from receiving any assistance from her.

"Octavia spent a few days with us but she did not think that you would come after her, Bellamy," Luna said, looking at him shrewdly, "but I told her she was wrong. Brothers and sisters are forever important to one another."

She made the remark in such a casual way that Bellamy almost missed the brief flicker of sadness in Luna's eyes. And that was when he recalled why she'd left her Conclave. The one she could have won, but had fled instead, leaving the field of battle, and the victory, to Lexa.

She'd been forced to kill her own brother.

_(Not for the first time Bellamy wondered at the grounders' method of choosing commanders. What utter madman -- or woman -- had deemed such a barbaric ritual necessary?)_

But Luna reined in her emotions and moved on, once again all business.

"It was Octavia who told me about your defeat of the machine," she said. "How you all fought bravely. I was happy to hear that part."

She paused, and when she continued her voice had changed. She was no longer happy.

"And then she spoke of the man Pike and how, after it was all over, she killed him. They had been on the same side, and he had even saved her life, but she killed him anyway. For revenge. For Lincoln. She was...unhappy when I told her I knew in my heart that Lincoln would not have approved."

Bellamy could only imagine the depth of Octavia's unhappiness at hearing Luna's disapproval.

"I had spoken with Octavia about her path of violence the last time you were here, and yet she still believed that I would agree with her actions. That I would understand her need for _jus drein jus daun._ 'It's how you do things' she said to me. Stubborn. I reminded her that I'd already told her that it was no longer what the Floukru believe. That we know that fighting, and killing, is not always the answer."

Luna sighed deeply.

"But as before, Octavia was not ready to listen. She was not ready to understand. I told her...it pained me to have to tell her...that although Lincoln was my oldest friend, and I would like to offer her a home, she could not stay here. She was still so angry -- too angry to be among my people. She would be a danger to them, and I could not allow it."

Bellamy nodded, understanding. He knew how full of rage Octavia was, how her jagged edges might seem a threat to the Floukru, living as they did in such close quarters.

"So she left. And where did she go then, Luna? You must have some idea."

He saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, and suddenly knew just what had happened.

"Did you send her somewhere? Somewhere that you thought might help? Or perhaps...to someone you thought might help?"

Luna looked at him with new respect, studying him carefully. "You are very perceptive, Bellamy kom Skaikru. But before I tell you anything, I must have your word - and from you also," she added, nodding to Clarke, "that you will not try to force Octavia to go back to your village."

Bellamy was shaking his head before she even got the words out. "That's not what this is about. I just want to make sure she's safe. And even though you don't seem to care about the threat we're all facing, I want Octavia to know about it. I think it might change things for her."

"You think she might then agree to return to your village voluntarily. If she knew."

He shrugged. "She might. But at least she'd have the chance to decide."

"Perhaps. But I still need your agreement that Octavia may choose her own destiny,"

"You have it," he said immediately.

"Of course," Clarke added. "I'm done directing other people's lives."

Luna nodded.

"Very well," she said. "I sent her to visit with Lincoln's grandmother."

"His grandmother is still alive?" Bellamy was astonished that anyone might live to such a great age in a culture so rife with constant mayhem.

"She is. Her name is Rhyne, and I believe she might be able to persuade Octavia to follow a different path. To make her understand how much Lincoln would have hated to see her like this. I'm not nearly as good at it as Lincoln was, but I'll draw you a map so that you can find Rhyne's village."

"A map? You really think that's necessary?"

Luna nodded. "I do," she said. "It is a trip of several days and will take you far north of here."

"North? But that's..."

"Yes," Luna said, nodding once again. "Lincoln's grandmother is Azgeda."

**********

Hours later, as they sat in their cabin waiting for Luna to draw them a map, Bellamy was still fuming.

"I can't believe she sent Octavia into Azgeda territory!"

Clarke put her hand on his arm, soothing.

"Octavia is very resourceful, Bellamy. And besides, we have a truce with the Azgeda."

"And how much do you think we can trust Roan?" Bellamy was torn between hope for Octavia and contempt for the arrogant Azgeda king.

"We have to start trusting each other or we might as well give up on this planet right now."

He knew she was right, but it was still hard for him to think of Octavia out there by herself, surrounded by the fiercest clan they had yet encountered. But before he could respond, there was a swift knock at the door, and they both jumped up as Armin entered.

"Heda wishes to see you," he said.

Bellamy and Clarke moved in unison towards the door but Armin held up his hand to halt Clarke's progress.

"Heda wishes to see only Bellamy kom Skaikru."

Bellamy's breath hitched in surprise. "I don't understand," he said.

"It's fine," Clarke said quickly, her tone expressionless and her face a mask. "Go ahead and...get the map."

"Clarke, I don't like leaving you here by yourself."

" _Wanheda_ will be perfectly safe," Armin said dismissively.

"Dammit! She's not the fucking _Wanheda_!"

Clarke grabbed his hand, pulling him around so that they were face to face. Her expression was determined. "Bellamy, just go. Don't lose this chance."

"Okay," he told her quietly. "But I'll be right back."

Clarke nodded. "And if you're not...right back...that's okay, too."

Bellamy searched her face, shaking his head. He was obviously missing something, but he decided that whatever it was wasn't important right at that moment. What was important was getting the damn map from Luna so they could find Octavia. That's what mattered. Everything else could wait.

Bellamy was surprised when Armin brought him not to the common room, where they'd talked earlier, but to what he guessed must be Luna's personal quarters. It was a cabin similar to the one he'd been sharing with Clarke, but much bigger. And instead of two narrow cots on either side of the room, a large bed had been placed squarely in the center of one wall.

Luna stood up, dismissing Armin, who shut the door behind him.

"Here is your map," Luna said immediately, holding out a piece of paper on which she'd used charcoal to draw an amazingly detailed route. In the background of the paper, he could see what looked like the faint markings of an old nautical chart.

"Thank you, Luna," he said sincerely. "I don't see how Lincoln could have drawn us a better map than this one."

Bellamy folded it carefully, stowing it in one of his jacket pockets, before nodding to Luna and turning to leave.

"Wait," she said, and he turned back in surprise.

"Was there something else?" Bellamy asked as politely as he could. He was itching to get back to Clarke, but Luna had, after all, just done him a huge favor. Perhaps he could return it.

Luna smiled at him, but it was a different smile. One he hadn't seen from her before.

And suddenly it all made sense.

"Do you and Clarke kom Skaikru have an understanding, Bellamy?" Luna was very direct.  
Bellamy sighed softly, impatient with himself that he hadn't anticipated this.

"Not in the way you mean," he answered simply.

"So, you are not...pledged to one another?"

He shook his head.

"Then I would offer you a bed for the night here with me. I believe we could bring comfort to each other. And you need not concern yourself about Clarke. I will see that she is well looked after."

Luna paused. She'd made her offer, and now it was for him to decide.

Bellamy gazed at Luna as she stood there in front of him, tall and beautiful, her body lush, her smile full of promise. And she wanted him. No strings attached. Just one night of comfort, one night of what would most certainly be pleasure.

But he knew he couldn't do it.

"Luna," he began, uncertain how to word his rejection diplomatically. It was not an experience he was familiar with.

"You've done me a big favor by giving me this map. Helping me find my sister. And I would be happy to return the favor if I could. But not like... _that_."

Luna looked perplexed. "Do you not like women? Or is it just me that you find unappealing?"

Bellamy laughed. "Oh, I like women very much. And you are hardly...unappealing. You're a beautiful woman, Luna. One of the most beautiful I've ever seen."

"And you're not promised to another? Someone other than Clarke?" Her brows drew together in confusion.

He shook his head. "Not promised to anyone."

But he owed her honesty at least.

"Except maybe...inside my head."

For just a split second her confusion was evident, and then Luna's face cleared and she began to laugh.

"I've been very stupid," she said. "I should have recognized what it was I was seeing." She paused, considering. "I will tell you this, Bellamy. If there is this threat looming over us all, if life is so very precarious, you shouldn't wait too long. You should tell her."

"It's more...complicated than that." The words were torn from him as he wondered how he'd ended up talking about something so...personal...with this grounder heda he barely knew.

Luna shook her head. "Life is complicated. And simple. I had Derrick. And then I did not. How will you feel if your Clarke is suddenly torn from you?"

He knew the answer to that. _Wretched_. Bellamy had already experienced it, and more. Separation. Anxiety for her safety while she roamed the forest. Fear that she would die in the City of Light. None were experiences he wanted to repeat.

"I'll think about what you've said, Luna. And, thank you for everything," he added, patting the paper which crinkled comfortingly in his jacket pocket.

She nodded and gave him a friendly smile. There would be no hard feelings. "Good luck in your search for Octavia. And with others in your life," she added. "We won't see each other again. I'll send food and drink, and then you must take the drug. I'll see you're safely transported back to shore."

"Until the next visit," Bellamy said.

"Yes," she agreed. "Until then."

**********

He felt a spurt of panic when he returned to the cabin and Clarke wasn't there, but then one of the Floukru women told him that she'd gone up top. Sure enough, after climbing several flights, he found her standing on the top deck staring out at the western horizon. The sun was just beginning to set.

She turned when she heard him.

"You're back," she said, as he walked towards her.

"I am," he agreed, reaching her side.

"You didn't stay," she said softly, and although her face was carefully blank, he had no doubt that Clarke had known what Luna wanted from him. She must have sensed something during their earlier conversation that he himself had completely missed.

"I didn't stay."

They stood side by side, watching in rapt silence as the sky pinkened and the sunset expanded to its full glory.

"Can you feel that?" she asked, not turning her head, as a gentle wind blew spray off the ocean's surface and across their faces. She wiped her cheek and touched her finger to her tongue.

"Salty," she said with a smile.

"Well, yeah, that's why it's called salt water," he smirked, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

"I want to see more of it, Bellamy," Clarke said with a sigh. "Everything this planet has to offer. I want to come back here to the ocean, and learn to swim, and simply...enjoy it."

"We will," he promised. "We'll come back when everything is finished. We'll sit in the sun and swim in the water."

The breeze picked up, and beside him, Clarke shivered. Without thought, he slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her tight against him, warming her. His breathing quickened as she wrapped a tentative arm around his waist, tucking herself into his side.

For just a little while, as they stood on the deck watching the sunset, Bellamy emptied his mind of everything except that one moment. The sound of the water, the breeze on his face, the beauty of the sunset, and the feel of Clarke's soft body against his own. And experienced something he thought must be very like happiness.

 _Maybe Luna is right_ , he thought. _Life is so fucking uncertain._


	6. Chapter 6

"You must be fucking nuts!"

As expected, Bellamy and Clarke had awoken to find themselves back in the stone circle, and Bellamy had pulled out the walkie right away to let Murphy know that they were on their way back to the Rover with a new destination in mind.

And now that Bellamy had explained, he wasn't surprised to find that Murphy was less than enthusiastic about the plan to continue their pursuit of Octavia into Azgeda territory. But it made no difference. If that's where Octavia had gone, then that's where he was headed. With or without the others.

"Like I told you before we left Arkadia, this is my search and I'll make the decisions. You're welcome to grab your gear and take off. Back to Arkadia or anywhere else."

He and Clarke climbed into the Rover, while Murphy stood his ground, sighing in frustration. He eyed Bellamy through the window.

"Shit, Bellamy. I always knew you were a stubborn son of a bitch. Do you even know where you're going?"

Bellamy nodded. "Luna made us a map to the village where Lincoln's grandmother lives." He patted his jacket pocket where the crisp paper still crinkled comfortingly.

"And what if his grandmother has joined up with her ancestors? Or however the hell the grounders think about dying."

"Then it will be a dead end. But it will be the same dead end that Octavia followed, so there's still a chance that someone will have seen her."

In desperation, Murphy shifted his appeal to the front-seat passenger.

"Clarke, you know this is a bad idea."

But Clarke just shrugged. "This is why we're out here, Murphy. To find Octavia. We're just following the breadcrumbs."

"And why the _hell_ did I think that you'd ever disagree with anything Bellamy wanted to do?" Murphy muttered.

"Hey, we disagree plenty," Clarke said, irate.

"Damn straight," Bellamy added, annoyed. For some reason, that needed to be made perfectly clear.

"We'll come," Emori said suddenly, obviously fed up with the argument.

Murphy whipped his head around, glaring at her. " _What_?"

"It will be better for them if we go, John. If I go. Maybe I can help."

Murphy's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"And we care about that _why_?" he asked, clearly disgruntled that she'd taken the decision out of his hands.

"Because we owe them. _I_ owe them. And I don't like being in debt to anyone. Besides," she smiled saucily, "it would be good for you to think about more than just preserving your own skin. You need to add a little adventure to your life."

Murphy looked at Emori as though she'd taken leave of her senses. "You know, I'm actually trying to cut down on the adventure. Sticking to the basics. Better for my health."

Emori laughed as she swung into the back seat of the Rover. "Come on, John," she said. "Don't be so grumpy. Get in the truck."

Bellamy watched Murphy climb into the Rover, and his lip curled ever so slightly as he considered how thoroughly attached to Emori the self-centered Murphy had become. He supposed he should have figured that out in the elevator back at the Heda's Tower, but he'd been too distracted with his own life-and-death agenda to worry about Murphy's romance. But he understood now. Only too well.

**********

They made reasonably good time that day, as they headed north and slightly west, although the track was so narrow at some points that he figured Octavia had probably done just about as well on her horse. The map Luna had drawn was remarkably detailed, and she'd included enough landmarks and waypoints that they could be comfortably certain they were on the right path.

They camped out in the open that night and were able to once again bag some fresh game to supplement their rations. All in all, the trip was going far more smoothly than Bellamy had expected.

It was the next day that everything started to unravel.

Later, Bellamy wondered how he'd managed to keep them from sailing right into the drink. Good reflexes, maybe. He'd noticed the track had been getting progressively narrower, but that had been his only warning when he rounded a steep curve and was suddenly faced with the rushing waters of a deep river.

His passengers tumbled about as Bellamy slammed on the brakes.

Clarke gasped and Murphy cursed. "What the fuck, Blake!"

"Shit! I don't know! This river is supposed to run alongside the track, not through the middle of it." He pulled out the map again just to be sure.

"Let me see that map," Emori said, leaning forward and holding out her hand.

Frustrated, Bellamy handed it over without a word. He didn't get it. They'd been following the map for nearly two days now and every landmark had been exactly on point.

Emori studied it carefully, then shook her head and gave a small sigh.

"How long is it since the Floukru heda has been out this way?"

Bellamy shrugged. "Years, I would think. But the rivers and the mountains don't move."

"That's just it. Sometimes they do," Emori said simply. "If there is _yuj skaikrasha_." She saw their bewilderment and translated for them. "Great Storm. It was a few years ago, but no one who was here will ever forget it."

Bellamy could hear the capital letters in her tone. _Great Storm_. As though it were a once-in-a-lifetime event. And perhaps it had been.

"For three days," she looked distressed as she recalled what must have been a terrifying event, "the storm swept across the lands of all the clans. Nothing could stand against it. Whole villages were lost. Many people died. On the third day, the rivers flooded and the heavy waters swept away everything in their path, often carving out new channels."

Bellamy immediately saw where she was heading.

"Some of the rivers changed course," he sighed, shaking his head, " _This_ river changed its course."

"I think so," she shrugged, "because we seem to have come to the end of this track."

Emori swung her body around in every direction, getting her bearings.

"We need to get out and walk from here," she said decisively. "There's a path a little further along, but it's too narrow for the vehicle."

But Bellamy wasn't abandoning the swiftness and security of the Rover. Not to mention he was responsible for getting it back to Arkadia in good working order.

He shook his head. "I can back up a ways. There was a turn-off that veered slightly more to the west." He reached back to retrieve the map, consulted it, nodded. "It will take us out of our way a bit, but then it rejoins the main track just before we get to the Azgeda capital. We'll only lose a few hours. Half a day at most."

Bellamy shifted into reverse and began the difficult task of backing up the large vehicle along the narrow track, until he reached a spot in the road that was wide enough for him to delicately turn the Rover around. Sure enough, a few miles later he found the secondary track he'd remembered.

" _Wait!_ " Emori suddenly yelled from the back seat just as he was turning onto the new road.

Bellamy slammed on the brakes for the second time, and they all tumbled about once again.

"Now what?" he said, turning around. He was beginning to be sorry she'd tagged along.

"We shouldn't go this way," Emori said, her voice intense. "It's too dangerous."

"Dangerous how?" It wasn't like every damn square inch of this fucking planet wasn't dangerous.

"The Azgeda," she said, as if that were enough.

Bellamy cocked a brow. "We were always going through Azgeda territory, Emori. You knew that. We have a treaty with Roan and I'm pretty sure he's planning to honor it."

The girl nodded. "Yes, but those are the Azgeda who live in the east. Near the court. There are others who live on the fringes of Azgeda land, far from the capital. That's where we're heading. The king doesn't have as much control out there, and they're...used to doing whatever they want. I don't think they'd worry about things like treaties if they saw strangers. They'd look for a way to profit. And if there _was_ no profit..."

Emori's voice trailed off as she let the others reach their own conclusions.

Bellamy nodded. "I understand. But we really have no choice. I can't leave the Rover behind." He paused, thinking hard. "Maybe you should get out here and we can meet up later. All of you, I mean," he added, glancing over at Clarke.

Clarke huffed, narrowed her eyes, and shook her head quickly. "You think I'm going to bail on you now that there may be _more_ danger? Not a chance."

"Maybe we _should_ leave, babe," Murphy said, turning to Emori, although Bellamy thought he sounded reluctant.

But Emori shook her head. "No, John. We'll keep going. Although," she glanced at Bellamy, "the people in these parts really hate...my kind. So if it looks like we're approaching a village..."

"Right." Bellamy nodded and turned to resume driving. "I'll stop and you and Murphy can hop out. No problem."

**********

It was Clarke who saw him first, stumbling along the side of the track. He was young, certainly no more than eleven or twelve, and he looked like he might fall any second. The boy turned around as the Rover approached, no doubt having heard the unfamiliar sound of an engine. Bellamy could see the fear in his face, even from this distance.

"Bellamy, stop!" Clarke said as they drew abreast of the child, and he knew she'd shifted into healer mode. It would have been useless to argue. He wouldn't put it past Clarke to jump out of the moving vehicle if she thought someone needed her medical help.

She was out of the truck while it was still rolling to a stop, racing toward the boy who had now collapsed on the side of the dirt road.

"Bellamy, bring me the med kit," she hollered.

He fished her kit out of the back and made his way toward Clarke and her new patient, whose shirtfront was covered in the blood that continued to spurt over Clarke's hands even as she desperately tried to stop the flow. The kid looked terrified, and Bellamy wondered if he wasn't more scared of Clarke than of whatever injury he'd sustained.

Clarke tried to reassure him, but like many young grounders his English was limited. And her Trigedasleng was sketchy at best.

" _Ai na fis hem yu_ ," she tried, pulling aside his shirt to find the deep gaping wound in his side. He stared down at it and said only one word.

" _Nomon_."

"Your mother? Is she hurt, too? Should we look for her?" Clarke questioned him as she pulled out a flask of alcohol, pouring some over both her hands and the boy's side. He yelped at the sting of the alcohol on his open wound.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching frantically in her head for the right phrase, even as she scrabbled in her kit for a needle and thread.

" _Moba_ ," Clarke said, gently patting his hand, and even Bellamy knew she was telling him how sorry she was that she had to hurt him.

" _Moba_...?" She cocked her head at the boy inquiringly as she continued to stroke him soothingly.

"T-Tanno," he said, after a moment, his eyes glued to Clarke's hand as she moved it away from his arm in order to thread her needle.

" _Heya, Tanno_ ," she said with a smile, beginning to take stitches in his side. " _Ai laik Clarke. Ai na fis hem yu." I'm going to heal you._

Bellamy wasn't sure if it was her use of the boy's language, her obvious skill as a healer, or simply the Clarke Griffin magic that did the trick, but he could see the boy relax as Clarke continued to stitch and dress his wound. He was just thinking the incident was over, that they could be on their way, when he heard a bloodcurdling yell as a body came hurtling out of the woods and threw itself at Clarke.

" _Nomon_ , no!" The boy reacted immediately, but the angry woman paid no attention. Bellamy grabbed her arm to pull her off Clarke, and Tanno's mother screamed in pain.

"What the hell, I barely touched her," he said to Clarke, confused.

"Shit, Bellamy," Clarke said, "look at her arm." And Bellamy noticed for the first time that the arm he'd grabbed hung loosely by her side.

"Dislocated?" he asked, remembering that terrible day with Raven when ALIE had taken over both her mind and her body.

Clarke nodded. "I think so. I need to examine her, but if it's just a dislocated shoulder, I can reset it. But my grounder isn't up to long, involved explanations."

"I think I can help," Emori said, and Bellamy was startled to find her close behind him, Murphy at her side. He could see that she'd replaced her glove and that her disfigured hand was hidden behind her back.

"What do you want me to tell her?" she asked a relieved Clarke, proceeding to translate to the angry, terrified, and suddenly bewildered woman how these strangers were going to help her.

Slowly, their story emerged. Mother and son had been gathering berries in the woods when they'd been attacked by a wild boar. Tanno had been gored, but his mother had managed to toss her spear into the enraged animal, which had fallen on her, dislocating her shoulder and temporarily trapping her. Tanno had gone for help, but was losing so much blood that by the time the Rover had come across him he was on the verge of collapse.

Tanno's _nomon_ , whose name was Kalen, was finally persuaded to allow Clarke to help her. Again, Bellamy wasn't sure if it was her son's assurances about the healer's skill, her own excruciating pain, or just the Clarke magic, but Kalen was soon nodding her head.

Between Emori's translation and Clarke's treatment, it was another thirty minutes before both mother and son were patched up to the best of Clarke's ability. Once the pain and the fear were somewhat relieved, Kalen's minimal English found its way back into her brain.

"Thank you," she said haltingly. "Now you must go," she added, cocking her head and using her good arm to point to the right-hand track of the fork in the road that lay just ahead.

Bellamy heard something in her voice that hadn't been there earlier. A warning.

"She's right, Clarke. Let's go. Now." he added urgently, as Clarke slowly reassembled her med kit.

Bellamy's instincts had been right; it was just his timing that was off. Before they could get themselves back into the vehicle, they were suddenly surrounded by warriors, all brandishing knives or spears.

Kalen rushed into rapid Trigedasleng, impossible for Bellamy to follow. She pointed to Tanno's bandage and then the sling that Clarke had hastily fixed around her own shoulder.

One of the warriors, a man who appeared to be in charge, nodded slowly, but the hostility never left his face. Bellamy had just decided that he needed to intervene when the man suddenly turned to him.

"Who are you? Why are you here in our village?"

 _In_ the village? Shit! Bellamy supposed he should have realized the village was close by, but everything had happened so fast. He plunged in, hoping to satisfy the Azgedan's concerns.

"I'm Bellamy Blake. We're Skaikru and we're just passing through your village. We only stopped to help this woman and her son. We'll be on our way now."

"Skaikru?" the man said, eyeing the Rover like it was some kind of black magic. It was obvious the man had heard of the Skaikru, but Bellamy wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Still, the man was nodding and appeared to be accepting their explanation. His anxiety began to lessen as the four of them moved slowly towards the Rover.

Until he found his way blocked by the spear shoved in his face.

"And what of her? Is she also Skaikru?"

He turned and saw that the Azgedan had moved close to Emori and was studying her facial tattoo intently. Bellamy could see the fear in her eyes. Standing still as a stone beside her, Murphy's hands were clenched into fists.

"She is a friend who is traveling with us," Bellamy said quickly. "Our...guide."

"And what clan is she?" the man asked, finally moving around to Emori's back.

"I'm...not sure." Dammit! He knew that wasn't going to fly. _What the hell should he say?_

But before he could utter another syllable, the man had pulled Emori's glove off, exposing the misshapen hand she had so assiduously been hiding behind her back.

And dropped it like it burned his skin.

"What is this... _abomination_? You bring one of the cursed ones to our village?" The man's voice shook with outrage.

He back away from Emori, his face filled with fear and loathing. Even Kalen and Tanno looked shocked to learn that they'd had discourse with an untouchable.

"We're leaving now and we'll be taking her with us," Bellamy bit out.

"No!" The man shook his head adamantly. "She cannot be allowed to leave. We must kill her and rid the village of this shame."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy saw Murphy tense, as if to spring, but he knew it would do no good. There were six Azgedans, and they were armed, while their own rifles were still in the back of the Rover. Bellamy cursed himself for his stupidity in not grabbing his gun when he'd got out of the truck. But it had only been a boy bleeding on the side of the road.

With a sigh, he dismissed that line of thought as unproductive and shifted into another gear.

"You will not kill this woman. She is under my protection."

That got the Azgedan's attention.

" _Your_ protection? And who are you, Bellamy Blake kom Skaikru, that you think you can offer protection to someone while you are in _my_ village?"

"The Skaikru have a treaty with Azgeda," Bellamy said, with more confidence than he felt. But, dammit! He couldn't let something happen to Emori just because she'd decided to help him.

Clarke suddenly jumped into the fray. "And we are under the personal protection of King Roan," she asserted.

" _You_. You know our king." He shook his head disbelievingly, his face conveying his skepticism more clearly than any words he might have spoken.

"Yes," she insisted. "And you must send for him immediately."

"I must send for the king because _you_ have said so? I am heda of this village. I do not need the king to tell me what to do."

The man was clearly affronted. And yet...Bellamy could sense his uncertainty. Maybe the Skaikru really _did_ know the king of the Azgeda. Bellamy dared to hope that Clarke's ploy had worked and that they'd soon be on their way.

But a crafty look came over the heda's face then and Bellamy's hopes crumbled.

"The king paid a visit to many of the villages when he first ascended and he told us we must be fair in our dealings." The heda's statement was accompanied by a swollen chest, evidence of his pride that his village had been important enough for a royal visit.

Bellamy nodded. He was reluctant to admit it, even to himself, but it sounded exactly like something the arrogant Roan might have done.

"So I am going to give you a chance, Skaikru. You say this woman is under your protection? Then you will have the chance to fight for her. Against our champion."

The heda smiled, inordinately pleased with his solution. And clearly certain of the outcome of his plan. He would follow the king's dictates and still get rid of the offensive woman.

Bellamy heard a gasp that he knew must have come from Clarke, but before he could respond to it Murphy spoke up.

"Bellamy," he bit off quickly, "this is my fight. Emori is _my_ girlfriend."

Bellamy looked over at the slender Murphy, someone who lived by his wits, surviving by artifice and trickery. Undoubtedly clever. And knew that he'd never stand a chance in hand-to-hand combat with an Azgeda warrior. Besides, Emori wouldn't have been in this predicament if it weren't for Bellamy's stubbornness about the Rover.

He shook his head slowly.

"This is up to me, Murphy. Remember, on this trip you only get to make suggestions, but I decide."

He saw Murphy shift his attention to Clarke, but he got there first.

"You know I'm right, Clarke," Bellamy said, turning towards her. "It has to be me."

Her expression told him that she was torn. That she feared for his safety. That she'd searched her brain for an alternate solution and come up empty. That she understood that Bellamy was Emori's best shot at getting out of this situation alive.

A dozen emotions crossed Clarke's face, but then her shoulders sagged as she finally nodded her agreement.

"He's right," she said, and her words were for Murphy, but her eyes bored into his own. "It has to be this way."

"I accept," Bellamy told the headman before anything more could be said.

**********

They'd let them take their gear from the Rover - minus the guns - but the vehicle itself was left in the middle of the track. The Azgeda didn't even bother tying their hands because everyone understood that any resistance would have been immediately fatal.

When they got back to the village, a scant half mile away, the four of them were given a meager meal and then immediately separated.

Emori was tied to a pole, her misshapen hand covered so as not to offend the villagers as they slung small stones at her with casual cruelty. Bellamy was appalled, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Murphy had protested Emori's treatment so vehemently that he was finally gagged, dragged off, and locked inside a storage bin.

Clarke seemed to fare the best. She'd been taken in by Kalen and her husband, no doubt in gratitude for her services as a healer.

Bellamy was kept in what might have been the village jail. It certainly smelled of fear and piss and stale sweat. The heda had declared that the fight would take place the next day and Bellamy hoped his months of hard living on the ground would allow him to get enough sleep to put up a good fight. He had no doubt that his opponent would be the best the village had to offer.

He removed his jacket and carefully folded it to use as a pillow, spreading the blanket from his pack over himself. Despite his discomfort and anxiety, his tired body was drifting off when he heard a commotion outside the door.

"I must speak with him. Open the door right now." He hadn't heard Clarke in princess mode in a long time. It almost made him smile. Almost.

He wasn't surprised when the door opened, and he pulled himself to his feet just as Clarke came stumbling into the cell. Bellamy could just see the outline of his jailer still standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here, Clarke?" he asked, peering at her across the tiny room.

"I had to make sure you were all right," she said, determined. "That you'd be able to sleep."

Bellamy chuckled wryly. "You know, I was sleeping until you insisted on barging in here."

"I'm so sorry, Bellamy," she said, her tone earnest, contrite.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling at her in the dark. "I'm so tired I'm sure I'll fall back to sleep easily."

"That's not what I meant." She moved closer then, out of the shadows and into the small patch of moonlight that filtered in through the single small window.

"This is all my fault." He could hear the regret in her voice. "If I hadn't made you stop, this would never have happened."

Bellamy closed the short distance between them, grabbing her arms.

"No!" he said sharply, determined that she not bear yet another burden of unearned guilt. "You can't think like that. Everything that I did - that any of us did - led to this point in time. As for you not stopping to help someone in need..."

His voice drifted off as he huffed a small laugh, trying to imagine such a scenario.

"If you did that, you wouldn't the person I..." here he caught himself just in time..."I think you are."

Clarke studied his face as though she might never see it again, then suddenly reached up and threw her arms around him. Bellamy could do nothing more than embrace her in return, savoring her nearness as he held on tight.

"Clarke," he said quietly, closing his eyes and breathing her in. He forced himself to say nothing more. Nothing that would haunt her if this all ended badly for him the next day.

He could feel her hands in his hair and her breath on his cheek. He shivered as she moved her head against his.

"You can't die tomorrow, Bellamy," she whispered, her lips just grazing the outer shell of his ear. "I don't think I know how to live on this planet without you."

Clarke shifted again until there wasn't a single space between them, until he could feel her shivering along the entire length of his body.

"You need to just keep fighting tomorrow," she whispered fiercely. "You need to play for time."

Clarke's fingers squeezed him tightly as her breath caressed his ear with one last message.

_"I have a plan."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been very remiss in not thanking my wonderful beta, Nell65, for all her hard work in helping with this fic.

"Wake up, Skaikru." A hand shook him roughly. "This is the day you die."

"Yeah, I don't think so," he said, rolling over. Bellamy knew fuck-all about how the day might go, but if all he had at the moment was bravado, it would have to do.

They brought him food and drink, which he downed rapidly. This was the ground, and he knew enough to grab a meal when one was offered. Just as his body had learned to renew itself with sleep when the opportunity arose.

Although the night before had been a challenge.

After Clarke left - tossed out finally by his jailer - he'd had trouble falling back to sleep. For a while he'd tossed and turned, and all he could think about were the words she'd breathed into his ear. That she _had a plan_.

She'd refused to elaborate, cocking her head at the jailer who still stood in the shadow of the doorway. So he'd had to trust that her plan was a good one, that if he couldn't get them out of this jam with his fighting skills, her backup plan would do the trick. Whatever it was.

Accepting that finally, he'd turned over on the hard ground only to find another, more familiar, distraction plaguing him, as his body remembered the soft curves that had been pressed up against him as they'd sought to comfort one another. When the Azgedan assigned to watch him had ejected Clarke, Bellamy had been torn between missing the warmth of her touch and a feeling of immense relief that he'd been delivered from the sweet, sweet torture of her nearness.

Overcome with exhaustion, even the memory of Clarke's disturbing presence could not keep him from finally falling into a fitful sleep.

When he was at last allowed to emerge from his prison, he blinked at the bright sunshine and wondered idly if his jailer had been right. Would this be the day that he died? But then, there'd scarcely been a day since they'd arrived on this fucking planet that he hadn't wondered the exact same thing,

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, following the Azgedan down a path toward the open plaza. But the man just grunted, "Heda."

Emori was still tied to the pole at the top of the square, and as they passed through the area, Bellamy glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, hoping to catch her attention. He could see that she was dirty and disheveled, but his cursory inspection did not discern any blood.

On the one hand, he was relieved to find that she was apparently uninjured. On the other, he was enraged that they'd kept her tied up like that all night. That they'd felt free - perhaps even _obliged_ \- to pelt her with filth, merely because her body was less than perfect.

His fists clenched reflexively, and for the first time since he agreed to the fight Bellamy began to relish the idea of taking out his frustration on at least one person in this remote village.

He felt his pulse thrumming and his breath quicken, and he struggled to replace emotion with purpose. His breathing calmed as he forced himself to recall everything Lincoln had taught him about hand-to-hand combat. And for the first time in weeks, Bellamy found himself able to think about Lincoln without an overwhelming sadness.

_If I make it through this day, my friend, it'll only be thanks to you._

**********

_He was covered in sweat after hours of training, wiping his face on his tan shirt before slipping it over his head. By contrast, Lincoln looked like he was barely winded. Bellamy shook his head, amazed, as always, by the raw power and endurance of the man._

_"How is it you look like you could still go for another couple of hours and I can hardly stand?"_

_Lincoln gave a small smile. "I've been training since I was a small child, Bellamy. My father..."_

_Lincoln's voice trailed off and Bellamy recalled the last time Lincoln had spoken of his father. The day they'd been walking through the forest to Mt. Weather._

_"Your father?" he prompted, and Lincoln's face became a blank mask._

_"My father was a warrior and he believed in the warrior code. In the warrior life. I was big, bigger than most my age, and my father planned to make me a great warrior. So I trained for hours every day. And I was quick to learn and easily bested the others."_

_He looked at Bellamy and sighed. "But I also made my father angry."_

_"And why was that?" Bellamy couldn't help being curious._

_"Because as good as I was, as easily as it came to me, I hated every minute of it. Left to myself, instead of spending extra hours practicing with the spear or the knife, I was in the woods, drawing and cataloguing the plants."_

_Lincoln shrugged. "And then I chose the life of a healer. My father was not pleased."_

_"This was the man who tried to turn you into a monster, Lincoln. Who made you kill a man for no reason when you were just a kid. Maybe not pleasing him wasn't so bad."_

_For just an instant Lincoln looked confused, and then his face cleared as he recollected their previous conversation._

_"I remember telling you that story," he nodded. "We were on our way to the mountain."_

_Lincoln stilled suddenly, his face sharp with emotion._

_"I've never told you, Bellamy, never said how sorry I was for letting you down that day."_

_"Lincoln, it's not necessary," Bellamy assured him, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "I've done things I wish I could take back. We all have."_

_"No," Lincoln shook his head, rejecting Bellamy's words. "I'd promised you. I'd promised Octavia to take care of you. And I let you both down. I showed weakness. My father would have been ashamed...and this time I would have agreed with him."_

_Bellamy smiled. "And how do you think he'd have felt about you training your enemy? About helping us learn how to fight you?"_

_Lincoln's lip curled in a hint of rare amusement._

_"I can't be sure. My father was a simple man with a simple code. What Lexa did at the mountain was dishonorable, and he would have hated that. Although I'm not sure if he would have thought teaching our combat tricks to the enemy was any more honorable."_

_"Believe me, Lincoln, whatever debt you feel you owe me after Mt. Weather has been more than repaid. None of us would ever have learned to fight like this without your help."_

_Lincoln nodded. "And whatever level of skill you've reached, my friend, it's because you, too, are a strong and talented fighter. One day, I believe, someone will be most unhappy to discover that."_

**********

Bellamy recalled that conversation now with a lump in his throat. It was right after that that everything had gone all to hell, and within a few short weeks his friend was dead.

As they continued across the square, Bellamy noticed his jailer's attention wander and took the opportunity to veer slightly closer to Emori. Close enough, in fact, that she finally raised her eyes and looked at him.

_Are you okay?_

He had to mouth the words. He was still to far away for conversation and he didn't want to call attention to the girl by shouting across the open plaza. At the moment, she was being left alone and Bellamy wanted to keep it that way.

Emori gave him a short nod and he could see her determination in the line of her mouth and the set of her jaw. He nodded in return, hoping the gesture would convey everything he couldn't say out loud.

_I'm sorry I got you into this._

_You don't deserve this shit._

_Try to hold up a little longer._

_I'll get you out of here if it's the last thing I do._

As he passed within a few feet of her, one of the villagers approached, a woman, young, very much like Emori herself. Bellamy tensed, afraid he was about to witness some form of abuse, but instead, when the girl reached the prisoner she lifted a cup to her mouth. He watched Emori drink greedily and felt reassured that there was still some humanity to be found in this village.

When they reached the heda's home, Bellamy saw that the man was dressed far more elaborately than he'd been the day before. The ceremonial robes were perhaps a little threadbare, but his hair had been pulled back into a complicated knot to highlight the facial scarification so common among the Azgeda, particularly those of rank.

The heda stood, his chest puffed out with self-importance.

"Are you ready to see what happens when a worthless Skaikru challenges an Azgeda warrior?"

"What the hell? _You're_ the one that wants this fight, not me."

"Quiet!" the man said. "I am heda of this village. I do not debate with someone of so little consequence."

Bellamy frowned as he followed the heda out the door and back to the open square. It seemed clear that the man was intent on making political hay out of the fight, but Bellamy didn't care any more about Azgeda politics than he had about the Trikru infighting, or Lexa's problems with her coalition.

Unless it affected him or his people. He suddenly felt certain that the heda had a hidden agenda.

The heda stopped when they reached the middle of the square, and the villagers began to emerge from the homes surrounding it, and from the roads and lanes leading into it. Until it seemed to Bellamy that the entire village must be there to bear witness to the event.

Emori was still tied to her pole, although she was no longer the center of attention. Bellamy looked around for Murphy and found him at last, snarling and struggling against the two large Azgeda who were keeping him from reaching Emori. He could see that Murphy's nose was bloody, and there was a welt across his cheek.

 _Dammit, Murphy!_ Couldn't the guy just lay low for a bit and let Bellamy take care of them. But then his gaze shifted back to Emori, and he wondered how he'd feel if it were Clarke tied up and tormented in the village square. He suddenly felt a lot more sympathy for Murphy's need to get physical, however ineffectual the result.

And where the hell was Clarke, anyway? He knew she'd never be anywhere else by choice. Bellamy was just beginning to panic, to worry that her "plan" had been some ill-conceived escape attempt, when he at last saw her weave through the crowd, her shining blonde hair standing out amid the sea of dark heads.

The only one of them not confined in any way, Clarke pushed and shoved toward the front ranks of the crowd and began to make her way towards him, gliding around inside the circle that been formed by the audience. She was a scant three feet away from him when she was stopped at last by one of the heda's guards.

"Are you okay?" she asked, raising her voice and pushing ineffectually against the arm that was holding her back, just out of reach. "I wanted to see you this morning but patients kept coming to Kalen's house. They haven't had a healer here for several months."

Bellamy nodded, giving her a small smile. Of course she was held up taking care of the health of these villagers. As always, Clarke saw them as people, not Azgeda. Not the enemy. And she would continue to see them that way until she was forced to do otherwise. Then she would fight as fiercely as anyone for those she cared about.

"I'm fine," he said, wondering if he was lying or if he really was as calm as he felt. "What about the others? Have you been able to see them?"

"Murphy's a little banged up, but okay," she said, still struggling to get past the guard. "I tried to check on Emori but they wouldn't let me near her."

She turned to the guard, insisting that she had to see Bellamy, to speak with him. He watched as she became more and more frustrated, and the guard, more and more irate. Then he saw the man reach for his knife.

"Clarke! Stop! I told you, I'm fine. Why don't you head back to the boy and his mother?"

Dammit! He couldn't be worrying about her safety and still focus on the fight.

Maybe she saw something in his expression, or maybe it was the obvious futility of her struggle with the guard, but she stilled suddenly. Gave him a small nod and a tremulous smile.

"Right," she said. "I'll be over there," she added, pointing to where Tanno and Kalen waited for her, their faces masked with worry.

Bellamy gazed at Clarke, drinking her in. They'd had so many of these moments, moments when they never knew if it would be their last sight of each other. At the drop ship door. Before he left for the mountain. When she took off at the gates of Camp Jaha. And just recently, when she'd left him her body to protect while her mind traveled into the City of Light.

So maybe he should be used to it by now.

But it was always a fresh agony, every damn time.

"Bellamy," she said suddenly, "I never told you..."

"Whatever it is," he said, stopping her cold, "tell me later. After the fight."

Her eyes were shiny now and he saw her swallow convulsively.

"After the fight," she agreed. "I'm holding you to that."

Clarke turned swiftly, pulling away from the guard and returning to her friends standing at the bottom of the circle.

Bellamy sighed in relief as he saw her slip safely back into anonymity. These villagers had no idea who she was and he'd just as soon keep it that way.

Momentarily relieved of his concern for Clarke, Bellamy became aware of a heated discussion between the heda and another man. A man of similar rank, it seemed, judging by his clothing and facial scars.

He was close enough to hear the argument, but they were speaking in the grounder language in which Bellamy was far from fluent. But when the men's eyes shifted to two other men - younger, more fit - standing together several feet away, he understood immediately.

This was a dispute about who would represent the village in fighting the Skaikru interloper. Bellamy couldn't tell from their gestures which warrior was the heda's candidate, but surely whichever it was would be the one chosen. The heda didn't seem like a man to let others dictate his decisions.

Bellamy's attention shifted to his two potential opponents. One was noticeably taller, with outsized musculature and an arrogant expression to match. He waited patiently, ignoring his rival. And his potential opponent.

The other man was shorter, wirier, the look in his eyes shrewd and intelligent. As Bellamy studied him, the man's attention shifted as though he'd felt Bellamy's gaze. They'd just locked eyes when the heda raised his voice, this time speaking in English.

"You all know that the purity of our village was sullied when these Skaikru dared to bring a cursed one here. Even worse, this man, their leader, challenges our right to rid ourselves of this horror."

The heda turned his head and eyed Bellamy with exaggerated contempt.

"Who are these Skaikru that they dare to defy us? They do not honor our ways. And we must show them how we treat those who show us disrespect."

He paused, turned toward the two warriors waiting to be called to duty.

"Damon will show this Skaikru fool how we treat those who dishonor us."

The larger man stepped forward amid the cheering of the crowd, and Bellamy breathed a silent sigh of relief. As he'd anticipated, the heda had chosen the larger man, the opponent Bellamy instinctively felt would be easier to beat.

He glanced over at Clarke and could see the worry on her face when she saw the man's height and girth. Bellamy tried to compose his features in a way that would reassure her, but she was too far away to understand. He supposed he'd have to show her instead.

Now that the village's champion had been chosen, Bellamy thought the fight would begin immediately, but of course he should have known better. No facet of grounder life, a least none that he'd observed, ever seemed to occur without its accompanying ritual.

He found himself hurried into a large building, stripped of most of his clothing, and cleansed in what appeared to be a ceremonial manner. When he saw one man approach him with a razor, he thought for a moment that he was going to be given one of those Azgedan facial scars, but he was mistaken. Instead, three days' growth of beard was scraped from his cheeks and chin.

Apparently, Azgeda warriors did not go into battle unshaven. Bellamy was grateful; his face had reached the stage of being unbearably itchy but he'd had no time to remedy the situation. He supposed if he could emerge from this predicament with nothing more than a close shave he wouldn't complain.

As abruptly as it had begun the cleansing ritual was over, and Bellamy found himself back in the square. The crowd cheered as the two fighters faced each other in the middle of a circle ringed with onlookers. In that moment, everything melted away except the dance.

Bellamy was shirtless and barefoot, just as he'd been during those long hours of training back in Arkadia, and he unconsciously took the stance he'd been taught by Lincoln. He saw the surprise on Damon's face, but then the man shrugged imperceptibly, as if to say that Bellamy knowing the steps of the dance would make no difference to the outcome.

They circled each other, changing direction frequently and abruptly, trying to predict their opponent's next move from a telltale sign as tiny as the blink of an eye or the flutter of a finger. Finally the grounder lunged at him, but the slight nod of Damon's head had given him away, and Bellamy swerved in time, remaining just out of the other man's grasp.

For several minutes, he and Damon continued to pace around the circle, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Bellamy heard the crowd roaring. Jeering at him because he hadn't made any moves toward their champion. But he knew that wasn't the way to play the game. Not if he wanted to win.

Bellamy was in the zone and had no clear idea of how much time might have passed when the grounder lunged at him a second time, and again he stepped smoothly to the side. He could see the frustration in the man's eyes now.

He could also see something else: a pattern.

And sure enough, as though he had only one move in his repertoire, the grounder lunged a third time. But this time Bellamy was ready for him. He set his feet, distributed his weight, grabbed his opponent's arm as he came at him, and let the man's weight and momentum carry him over Bellamy's shoulder and onto the ground behind him.

Where he landed with a resounding _thwack!_

Bellamy pivoted swiftly, automatically regaining his stance in case the grounder leapt up to take another run at him. But as soon he turned he saw there was no need. The big man was out cold.

The silence was deafening. And then a low murmur began to rise from all around him as the villagers made their displeasure known. Bellamy glanced at the heda, wondering how he would handle the Azgeda's defeat, since he had framed the fight in terms of the village's honor only minutes earlier.

Then suddenly someone stepped forward. It was his other potential opponent, the one that Bellamy hadn't wanted to fight. The man gave the heda a shallow bow.

"You see, heda," the man said, speaking in English as he side-eyed Bellamy, "it is as I said. I am the champion of this village, not Damon. I demand to be allowed to uphold our honor by thrashing this worthless Skaikru."

The heda bristled. "You _demand_ , Marko?"

Marko retreated, but only slightly. "With the heda's permission, of course."

Bellamy was outraged when he saw that the heda appeared to be considering it.

"What the hell is this?" Bellamy said, not bothering to hide his anger. "You demanded that I fight for my people and I've done that. Now I'm making a demand of my own. Release my people and let us be on our way."

"Quiet!" The heda spoke sharply. "I will decide what becomes of your people."

Bellamy's fists clenched at his side.

"We had a deal," he reiterated, biting out the words.

A canny look suddenly overtook the heda's face.

"Yes, our deal was that you must fight the village champion."

"And I've done that!" Bellamy was insistent.

The heda shook his head. "No, Damon was not the champion."

"But you chose him yourself! How can you say now that he's not your champion?" An end to this madness had seemed within his grasp, and now Bellamy was beyond frustrated.

The heda's face was smug as he gave his answer.

"Because he did not beat you, so he cannot have been the champion. Marko is clearly the champion and you will now fight him."

Bellamy's mouth gaped at the man's circular logic and he tried to dig in his heels.

"I won't fight again," he insisted.

The heda's eyes narrowed as he looked at Bellamy. Then he turned his head toward the pole at the upper end of the square. The pole to which Emori was still fastened.

"You will fight Marko or your female abomination will be killed immediately."

Bellamy tried to tamp down his anger. "And what guarantee do I have that this will be the last fight? That if I beat Marko, you won't suddenly decide there's some other village champion?"

The heda paused and looked at him closely.

"You will not beat Marko," he said, his quiet voice menacing, his eyes shifting again to where Emori was tied to the pole.

The heda turned away then and Bellamy's eyes closed in despair.

 _Fuck!_ His mind was in turmoil. _How the hell am I going to get us out of this?_

**********

Marko had to go through the cleansing ritual, so Bellamy got a short reprieve. He was still being closely guarded, so he simply dropped to the ground where he stood, trying to retain as much energy as possible.

"This is so damned unfair!"

He turned his head and looked up to see Clarke no more than two feet away, just on the other side of the loose ring of guards that surrounded him. Her expression was a cross between disgruntled and terrified.

"What are you doing here, Clarke? You need to get back to that family. If anything happens to me, just stay with--"

"Dammit, Bellamy!" She interrupted fiercely. "Nothing is happening to you. I won't let it."

One of the guards smirked, perhaps putting his own interpretation on their relationship. Maybe that's why he shifted slightly, allowing Clarke to get just a bit closer. Not close enough to touch Bellamy, but near enough that their words no longer had to be shouted around a half dozen grounders. She dropped to her knees, scooting as close to Bellamy as possible.

"Does he really mean to make you fight someone else?" she asked, both indignant and furious.

Bellamy nodded. "There's not much I can do about it."

"Well, you beat the first guy and you'll beat the next one, too."

"Clarke," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "This one will be different.".

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

She reached across to touch him, but before her hand connected, it was slapped away by the guard.

"Get up, Skaikru," the guard said. "Time to get your ass kicked."

Bellamy rose to see the heda moving toward him with the now-cleansed Marko.

"I ask to speak to my...friend before the fight." Bellamy rushed into speech before he could think better of it.

The heda eyed Clarke, now standing next to the guards. "The healer," he said.

Bellamy nodded. "Just for a moment."

The heda considered, then bowed his head magnanimously. "A moment."

Bellamy rushed over to Clarke, and for the first time ever he took the initiative and folded her into his embrace.

"Clarke," her whispered fiercely. "Please promise me that you'll stay safe. And that you'll continue to look for Octavia."

Clarke pulled back to study him, her hands clutching at his arms. "We'll _both_ be safe and we'll _both_ look for Octavia," she said with her usual determination. "Just hold on for a little while longer, Bellamy," she begged. "Just a little while."

She reached up then to brush a kiss across his cheek, her lips barely connecting with his skin before she was pulled away roughly by the guard.

 _A little while longer._ He'd forgotten that she had a _plan_. He stared at Clarke for a moment, and then she was pushed back into the crowd by the heda's men. Bellamy sighed inwardly. He could think of no plan that would save them now.

But the time was past for all such musings. The heda had given the signal, and the villagers re-formed into the same rough circle around the new combatants. Bellamy took his stance, eyeing Marko warily, and the dance began again.

As the first one had, this contest opened with the two men circling each other, shifting this way and that, each trying to gain some advantage over the other. To learn something useful. As he'd anticipated, it proved much more difficult to predict the movements of this new opponent, and for the first time, Bellamy considered that what Lincoln had so painstakingly taught him might not be enough to save them all now.

A sudden blow to his head sent Bellamy reeling, but he recovered quickly, smoothly shifting his body out of the way so that Marko could not strike again. Amid the cheers of the crowd he heard a sharp gasp, and knew it was Clarke.

 _Goddammit!_ He'd let his mind wander, let doubt creep in, and caused her pain and worry. It wouldn't happen again. Lincoln's training reasserted itself and Bellamy carefully emptied his head of everything except the opponent he faced, the battle to be fought, and the absolute necessity of winning. Within seconds, he found a weakness to exploit and delivered two punishing blows to his opponent, one to the head and one to his midsection.

And they were off.

Punches and body blows and roundhouse kicks were traded back and forth as both men were bloodied and bruised again and again. Bellamy had the by-now-familiar taste of blood on his tongue, but beyond that he noticed nothing. The pain would come later, and it would be welcome because it would mean that he'd survived. But for now, there was only the correct placement of his arms and legs and body to ward off his opponent's strikes, and the absolute need to inflict maximum damage with his own.

So they fought on, the advantage shifting between them, until finally, his endurance drained after two exhausting fights, Bellamy began to feel himself getting tired. Began to wonder if he had the strength to outlast the man. And perhaps his opponent sensed it, too.

Or perhaps it was simply that Marko was as tired of this fight as he was and just wanted it to be done with.

Time seemed to slow for Bellamy as he watched the man gather himself for what was clearly intended to be the death blow. And in his head, he heard Lincoln's words from all those weeks ago.

_He almost had me, but he was too aggressive._

It was unfortunate for Marko that he hadn't had the benefit of hearing those cautionary words, too.

As the man rushed towards him, intent on delivering the knockout blow, Bellamy called on every remaining ounce of mental and physical toughness he possessed. He set his feet, distributed his weight, and in a near replay of the climax of his earlier fight, grabbed Marko's arm and used the force of the man's drive and momentum to flip him over into the hard-packed dirt.

The crowd gasped, then stilled, stunned by the suddenness of it.

Exhausted, Bellamy turned to assess the damage he'd inflicted. Unlike Damon, Marko was still conscious. As Bellamy pulled air into his lungs in short gasps, he watched the man stagger to his feet. Bellamy felt his own exhaustion, but he could see that his opponent was even less able to carry on and he knew that one final punch would finish the man completely.

He gathered himself to deliver it.

It happened so quickly that he had no time to prepare. Someone - one of the heda's guards, maybe - handed something to his opponent, and before Bellamy could react, Marko had covered the short distance between them and sliced through Bellamy's upper arm.

There was little strength behind the strike, but the sharpness of the knife he'd used insured there didn't need to be. For an instant, Bellamy was too shocked to feel anything at all, and then rage took over. There was a roaring in his ears and he moved his arm to strike the final blow.

But something was wrong. His arm wouldn't move, wouldn't follow his commands at all. Instead, blood was dripping down to his wrists, across his palm, and onto the dirt.

Bellamy felt himself sinking to the ground as blackness threatened to engulf him, and he dimly heard the crowd shouting its approval at this turn of events. Sweat dripping from his forehead, his vision nearly obscured, he watched helplessly as Marko, knife raised, bloodied teeth on display as he grinned in triumph, staggered towards him to finish the job.

He never made it.

Bellamy looked on in shock as something struck the other man in the chest. A spear, delivered with a downward arc, sliced through Marko and pinned him to the ground. Even through the fog that swirled in his brain, Bellamy knew immediately that the man was dead.

He looked up then and saw what he'd been too busy awaiting death to notice earlier. Some time in the last few minutes, a section in the circle of onlookers had opened up, the gap wide enough to accommodate several men on horseback. One of those men had tossed the spear at Marko. And Bellamy knew that man.

"I think maybe you owe me now, Skaikru." Roan's tone was sardonic as he gazed down at him in exasperation.

Bellamy opened his mouth, fully intending to dispute that statement. But before he could utter a word the blackness overtook him.


	8. Chapter 8

The room was dark when Bellamy woke, disoriented and sore. When he tried to move his head, he heard a low moan, and it was a moment before he realized that the sound had emanated from his own throat.

"Are you awake?"

It was Clarke's voice, and when he carefully, _painfully_ , succeeded in raising his head, he could just about make her out in the dimly-lit room, seated in a chair a few feet from his bed.

"Where are we? How long have I been out?" he rasped, his throat dry.

She rose, grabbing a canteen from a low table.

"About an hour. Here, drink this," she instructed, holding his head and putting the flask to his lips. Healer Clarke to the core. "Then we can talk."

The water soothed his throat and somehow the hydration also seemed to clear his head.

"The fight," he remembered. "Emori?" His voice was anxious, and he shifted as though to sit up. But when he pushed against his left arm it began to throb, and he groaned at the intense pain.

"We're in Kalen's house. Emori and Murphy are in the next room." Clarke supplied the answer to his half-spoken question, gently pushing on his chest to force him back onto the cot.

"How did I get here?" he asked, intent on finding out what had happened.

"You were carried here after you passed out." Clarke's face showed her fury and her words were full of contempt. "That bastard couldn't beat you honestly, so he decided to cheat."

"I noticed," Bellamy said tartly, shifting away from his left side. "And then Roan appeared as if by magic, just in the nick of time."

He eyed her shrewdly. "Was that by any chance your _plan_?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And you couldn't have arranged for him to arrive _before_ I got stabbed?" Bellamy's lip curled up in a wry half-smile.

But Clarke wasn't sharing the joke. Her eyes looked suspiciously glassy in the dim light, and she moved away to replace the flask on the table.

"I was so afraid, Bellamy." Her voice shook just a little. "I tried to run into the ring, to help you, but Kalen's _houmon_ held me back."

"Clarke," he said softly, touched and appalled at the same time. "Thank god you didn't. What did you think you could have done besides get yourself killed, too?"

"I know, I know," she said, fierce. "But to stand there and just do...nothing." She shook her head and he understood completely. To do nothing was sometimes the most difficult course of all to follow.

"But thank god Roan finally showed up."

"How did you manage that?"

"Almost as soon as we got here, I sent Kalen's older son to the Azgeda capital with a message that we were in danger. Kalen's family runs the smithy and they own a horse."

"A message? What kind of message?" In all his experience with them, he'd never seen grounders communicate by written message. And he had a hard time believing that Roan made himself available at a moment's notice to every obscure villager's son.

"It was a verbal message that Clarke and Bellamy were in grave danger in this village," she said. "And just to be sure that he knew it was really us, I sent along some small sketches of you and me. I had to use the back of Luna's map to draw them because I didn't have any other paper. But I thought this was more important."

Bellamy shook his head, amazed, as always, by her ingenuity. He winced at the pain from even that tiny movement.

"And how did you know Roan would come, even if he understood the message?"

She shrugged. "Because we have a treaty with Azgeda, and harm coming to us would have broken it." She paused. "And because he needs to show he's in control over all the Azgeda, not just the ones near the capital."

He smiled inwardly at her astuteness. Maybe her time in Polis had taught her something about grounder politics. But before he could voice that thought, the man himself appeared in he doorway.

"You're awake. Good. We need to get you out of here now," Roan said briskly.

"It's too soon," Clarke protested. "He needs to rest. We can leave tomorrow."

"We leave now." Bellamy could see Clarke readying a further protest, but it was clear Roan wasn't open to negotiation.

"He's right," Bellamy said. Pivoting his body with an effort and swinging his legs off the bed, he rose carefully but steadily to his feet. "We need to leave before they figure out who you are. So far we've been lucky, but every second we're here means you're in danger."

Roan shifted his attention to Bellamy.

"Then why did you bring her here, Skaikru?" Roan's voice was tight with anger. "And your friend in the other room. Why would you ever bring someone like her to a place like this? It was a stupid move, and while we've had our differences, I know you're not stupid."

Bellamy's voice rose as he bit out a response to Roan's accusations. "I didn't _bring_ them here. The river was impassable and we had to take a detour. We stopped to help the people who live in this house, and the next thing I knew I was fighting for our lives."

"It was my fault." Clarke jumped in, unable to restrain herself. "We shouldn't have stopped but they needed our help."

Roan peered at the two of them, shook his head, and sighed audibly. "Skaikru," he muttered with disgust. "When will you learn to mind your own business?"

Bellamy was outraged. "If it means we'd have to let little boys bleed to death on the side of the road, then I guess the answer to that would be _never_!"

"Such humanitarians!" Roan was openly derisive. "And what about slaughtering peacekeeping armies in their sleep?" He was no more than a few inches from Bellamy now as the two of them faced off.

Fuck that! This _Azgeda_ didn't get to throw _that_ in his face.

"Yeah? Well, at least we agree that it was an army. Not like attacking children playing in the snow. Or blowing up Mt. Weather and killing everyone inside just for the hell of it."

He saw the flicker of... _something_...in Roan's eyes.

"That was...Queen Nia," he said finally, his voice flat. "My...mother didn't always think things through."

"Oh? And is that why those weren't good ideas? Because they were bad politics?"

Bellamy didn't try to hide his contempt. All those Farm Station kids. The people in the mountain. Gina. He hadn't been able to save Gina. His head throbbed as his voice rose.

"Nothing to do with the fact that they were despicable, cowardly acts?"

Bellamy tried to control his fury, knowing that he probably shouldn't blame the man for the actions of his mother. But it was damn hard to separate them. And then he recalled that it was that kind of thinking that had led him to follow Pike in the first place. He sighed, his anger deflating abruptly as a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him. He sat heavily on the bed.

"Look, I'm...grateful for your help today. If you hadn't arrived just then, I'd be dead." He turned to Clarke. "Roan is right. We're leaving now."

Clarke nodded, accepting defeat.

"Okay," she said. "But we need the Rover and you're in no condition to walk that far."

Bellamy thought a minute, but he knew there was really only one choice.

"Can you guarantee my friend's safety so he can pick up our vehicle?" he asked the Azgedan. "It's only a half mile or so from here."

Without answering Roan moved to the door of the room, and within minutes three of his men were preparing to leave with Murphy.

Bellamy rose shakily and shuffled to the doorway.

"Can you handle the Rover, Murphy?" Now was the time to say that he couldn't.

Murphy nodded to him. It was the first time they'd spoken since their capture.

"No problem, Bellamy. I'll make it work."

Bellamy was surprised at the sincerity in Murphy's tone, and even more surprised when Emori, who appeared to have been hiding in a corner, rushed over to him.

"You're okay," she said, stopping just short of touching him.

He nodded. "And you?"

Emori responded with her usual bold self-confidence, and he was happy to see the return of her self-assured grin.

"Never better," she said.

**********

"There's just one more thing before we leave," Roan said, sending one of his men to bring him the village heda.

"We have a treaty with the Skaikru," he reminded the man, who seemed to Bellamy like he was about to piss his pants. Roan really was an intimidating bastard. "And as for the woman, if you find any more...like her...you bring them to me. I'll decide what to do with them."

As the heda bowed respectfully, thoroughly cowed, and declared his obedience to his king, Bellamy was confounded once again by grounder politics. If it wasn't a commander who rose to power by killing off her rivals in a bloody ritual, it was a king who inherited his title from Mom.

As far as he knew, there hadn't been an absolute monarchy on the planet for at least a hundred years prior to the cataclysm. But somehow these survivors had managed to resurrect the notion of despotic rule and run with it.

But perhaps it was all academic, he thought. Perhaps they'd all be gone in six months, or two months. Or a week. And it wouldn't matter a damn.

The capital was a fair distance, but Roan wanted to make the trip without stopping, even if it meant traveling after dark. The moon would be full, and the Azgedans knew the territory well. All Murphy had to do was follow along behind their horses.

Bellamy was loaded into the backseat, with Clarke across from him, and that's the last thing he knew for several hours.

He awoke with a jolt to find the Rover bathed in darkness, twin beams of light coming from the vehicle's headlamps. In the back of his mind, Bellamy noted the extra drain on the Rover's energy supply and hoped like hell its charge would hold until they reached their destination.

Clarke had fallen asleep on the other bench and Bellamy was grateful she was getting some rest. He pulled himself to a sitting position and saw that Emori was also asleep in the front seat. He remembered that she'd spent the previous night upright, tied to a pole, and knew she had to have been exhausted.

"How are you doing, Murphy?" he rasped out softly, wondering how long he'd been driving in the dark with three sleeping passengers.

"Hey, the dead man speaks," Murphy quipped from the front seat. "Doing okay, but I hope to hell we're almost there. I don't like to think about this tin can running out of juice."

Bellamy nodded, regretting the movement immediately when his head began to pound. "Yeah, me, too."

"Hey, uh, I had no idea you could fight like that," Murphy said, shifting his head slightly toward the back seat while still managing to keep his eyes on the road.

"Lincoln taught us," Bellamy explained, "while you were away on your little adventure with Jaha."

"I didn't know, either." Clarke's voice was soft and sleepy, and she sat up as he turned in her direction, careful, this time, to move his torso and not his head.

"Lincoln gave lessons to everyone in the guard. But maybe," he shrugged, wincing when his arm began to throb in response to that movement, "I took to it a little better than some of the others."

Bellamy paused as a fresh wave of grief and guilt washed over him.

"Lincoln saved my life today. Too bad I couldn't have saved his."

"Bellamy..." He could hear the frustration in Clarke's voice. "Lincoln's death...it wasn't all your fault. So many things happened...if any one of them hadn't...but they did. You can't blame yourself."

"Octavia does," he said simply.

"I know she does." Clarke's tone was dismissive. "But that's just grief, Bellamy. And pain. And a need to make sense of his death. But sometimes...people die...and it makes no sense at all."

Turning his head from the road for the briefest of moments, Murphy locked eyes with Clarke. "You got that right," he said.

 _Lexa_ , Bellamy thought, recalling Clarke's story about how the Commander had died. Recalling that Murphy had been there, too.

"Sometimes," Clarke said, sad but resolute, "you just have to accept it."

Bellamy wanted to nod in agreement, but remembered just in time not to move his head.

"I think that's a lesson that a lot of us have learned. But Octavia hasn't. Not yet."

Clarke opened her mouth, but whatever she'd been about to say was lost amid the shouts from up ahead. And then there it was just ahead of them, the Azgeda capital. With the moonlight and the Rover's lights for illumination, Bellamy could see dozens of low buildings that spread out in every directions. But he saw nothing resembling the Commander's tower.

For that, he felt profound relief.

As they drove into the city proper, some of the horsemen began to disperse, but Murphy continued to follow Roan and the rest as they twisted and turned through the streets, finally reining in the horses in front of the largest building they'd seen yet. Murphy brought the Rover to a halt right behind them.

While his retinue took charge of the horses, Roan waved the Arkadians out of their vehicle and ushered them inside the building. Even though it was very late, several of Roan's staff immediately appeared, and within a very short time two rooms were procured for the king's unexpected guests.

"I've not slept in more than a day, so anything you want to say, anything you want to ask, will have to wait until tomorrow," Roan told them before leaving them on their own.

That was more than fine with Bellamy.

Without either of them giving it a thought, he and Clarke moved together toward one of the rooms, to find that it contained only one large bed. It was a testament to their exhaustion that though they both noted it, neither mentioned it, and neither cared about it. Bellamy removed his boots and lay down, hoping he'd left Clarke enough room but too tired to make sure.

"I should change your dressing," was the last thing he heard her say before he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

**********

Maybe it was was the throbbing in his arm that woke him. Or perhaps the sunlight filtering in through the single window. Or equally - or perhaps more likely - it was the soft body curled up against his right side. He'd woken next to Clarke before - several times on this trip alone - but never with her nestled against him on a soft bed. Never with all the privacy afforded by a closed door.

Never to find her looking up at him through hooded eyes.

Bellamy couldn't help himself. His breath hitched and he rolled in her direction. But when he lifted his left arm, intending to wrap it around her waist, he couldn't hide the wince that accompanied the movement.

He supposed he should feel lucky that the knife that had cut him hadn't been poisoned. Maybe there hadn't been enough time to manage that level of treachery, he thought cynically. But even the shallow wound had been enough to ravage his weakened and exhausted body.

Clarke smiled. "I think we need to change that dressing, Bellamy."

"Is that your only line these days?" he asked, returning her smile.

"Well, if you had let me do it when we got here..." she chided.

Clarke left the room to find water, giving Bellamy plenty of time to pull himself upright. No need to have her witness his weakness. She'd only worry and he knew she already had enough things to worry about.

He heard the door open behind him just as he made it to his feet.

"Well, that didn't take long," he said, turning around. "Did you work your usual mag...?"

But it wasn't Clarke who'd come into the room.

"I heard you were here but I couldn't believe it," Echo said with a smile, closing the door behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Bellamy practically snarled at her.

Echo's smile fell away, but she answered his question. "My family lives here, Bellamy. Not here in this house, of course, but close by. Listen, I just wanted to tell you--"

"I don't give a fuck what you want to tell me. I don't want to hear it. Now get out of here before I forget that I owe Roan and kick your ass out the door!"

The door opened with a bang and Clarke rushed into the room carrying a jug of water. She slammed it down on a table with such force that some of the water spilled out and sprayed across the tabletop.

"What's going on in here? I could hear you all the way down the hall!"

"The is Echo, Clarke. She's the lying bitch who got Gina killed."

Clarke gasped.

Echo's shoulders stiffened and she drew herself to her full height.

"I don't even know who Gina is," she said, clearly rejecting his claim.

"Gina," Bellamy said, stepping closer to Echo, and practically spitting the words in her face, "was my girlfriend. She died when you blew up Mt. Weather. After you sent me on some wild goose chase so I couldn't stop it."

"Bellamy, listen, that's not what happened," she said, sounding both frustrated and indignant.

But Bellamy was saved from further unwanted conversation when Roan appeared in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here, Echo?" Roan's words were brusque, and he did not look pleased.

"I just wanted to say hello to Bellamy. To explain..."

"And I've told her I wasn't interested in hearing her lies!"

Roan sighed.

"Did you really think he'd be happy to see you, Echo? I know you were a favorite of...Queen Nia, but I don't want you coming into my house without permission. Is that clear?"

Echo nodded. "Of course, Roan. I'm sorry." But her face took on a stubborn set. "May I speak to him later?"

Bellamy began to renew his objections, but Roan held up his hand.

"Is it important?"

"It is to me," she insisted.

Roan acquiesced reluctantly. "You may come just before the evening meal. But now you will leave."

Echo had barely left the room when Bellamy burst out. "I'm not listening to her bullshit! And anyway, by dinnertime we'll be gone. As soon as Clarke changes my dressing, we're leaving."

Roan looked at Clarke and shrugged. "Is he always this impossible?" he asked, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Bellamy, you need to rest today..."

"No, I don't want to hear it."

Bellamy knew he was being obstinate, that he could use the extra time to recover. But, dammit! They'd already lost so much time. They had only a few precious days left before they had return the Rover to Arkadia, and he didn't want to waste even one of them.

Without another word, Clarke gently pushed him down onto the end of the bed. She opened her pack, removing bandages and medication, pulled the jug of water towards her, and began to change his dressing. Even though she was engaged in a strictly utilitarian task, the touch of her hands soothed Bellamy and his mind began to quiet.

"There, done," she said, sooner than he'd expected. She put away her med kit and took a seat beside him.

"I spoke with Roan while I was looking for the water," she said quietly. "He's concerned about Emori's safety if she stays in Azgeda territory. He thinks that she and Murphy should go back to Arkadia right away."

"And how's that going to happen?" he asked, stubborn. "We have only one vehicle."

"Roan's offered to send several of his most trusted warriors to escort them most of the way. He's even providing them with horses."

Bellamy was surprised. "And Murphy's okay with this? When we left they weren't even sure they were going back to Arkadia."

Clarke shrugged. "Then they'll take the horses and they'll go somewhere else. The point is, Bellamy, after what happened in that village Emori is scared. She wants to get far away from here."

Bellamy sighed. He couldn't really blame her.

"Okay," he said. "But what does that have to do with us?"

"If you remember, Luna's map is gone because I used the paper to draw those pictures. But that won't matter because Roan has offered to take us to Lincoln's grandmother himself. Apparently, she's a famous healer."

"But that's good," Bellamy said. "Solves our problem."

"It does," Clarke agreed, "but he doesn't want to leave until tomorrow."

Bellamy huffed a laugh as understanding dawned. "You and Roan already had this all worked out, didn't you?"

"Bellamy..."

"No, Clarke, it's a good plan. At least if we travel with the king we'll have no more trouble with pretentious village hedas."

Clarke nodded in silent agreement. But he knew her too well. Knew she had something else on her mind. Knew exactly what she _wasn't_ saying.

He gave an exasperated sigh. "And I suppose you think I should hear Echo out."

Clarke pressed her lips together in an expression that Bellamy knew well.

"It costs you nothing to listen to what she has to say. You can decide if it's all bullshit later. But the thing is..."

When Clarke looked up at him intently, Bellamy understood that she wanted him to really hear whatever it was she was going to say next.

"The thing is, Bellamy, if we stop even bothering to listen to each other, then we'll never have any kind of accord. That's what Octavia's done. She's stopped listening to everything but the the truth she hears in her own head."

She paused. "And I don't want you to do that."

"Okay," he said, capitulating abruptly. It was pointless to argue when he knew she was right.

**********

In the end, he agreed that Clarke had also been right to make them stay the extra day. He'd spent most of it sleeping, and even had a soak in Roan's bath. For the first time in two days, his body didn't feel like one giant bruise.

Now he was ravenous, but he'd agreed to let Echo speak her piece before dinner.

"I wanted to speak to you alone, Bellamy," she said immediately, clearly annoyed. Roan had allowed them the use of a room in his private quarters for this meeting.

"Too bad. I asked Clarke to be here. And what difference can it possibly make, anyway?"

Echo narrowed her eyes at Clarke, and then appeared to blink her away, perhaps trying to pretend that the other girl wasn't there.

"I'm hungry, Echo," Bellamy said, when she failed to get to the point. "And you're keeping me from my dinner."

But when she began to speak, it wasn't at all what he'd expected.

"I didn't kill her. Your girlfriend. What was her name? Gina?"

"Goddammit! You don't get to talk about her!" Bellamy moved to rise from his chair, but Clarke laid a hand on his arm, pushing him back into the seat.

"Just let her finish, okay?" she said soothingly, then nodded at Echo to continue.

"I didn't kill her by sending you away, Bellamy," the girl reiterated stubbornly. "You were never going to be able to stop that attack. Emerson told us exactly how to get in through the secret passageway. He told us where the mechanism was to blow up the mountain and how to set it off. You would have to have known our man was in the mountain and that he was heading for that room. And there's no way you could have."

The last thing Bellamy wanted was to engage with her, but the question was torn from him.

"Well, then why? Why send us on that wild good chase, to stop an attack that wasn't even happening, if not to get the guards out of the mountain?"

Echo was silent and he could see the wariness in her face as she glanced at Clarke out of the corner of her eye.

"You might as well tell him," Clarke said. "Although I'm not sure he'll believe you."

Bellamy eyed Clarke, suddenly perceiving that she knew exactly what Echo was going to say.

Echo shrugged, trying to convey, perhaps, that it hardly mattered anymore. "I didn't want you to die, Bellamy, that's all. I didn't expect you to be there that day, but I was on lookout by the main door, and I saw you talking to that girl. And I just...I didn't want you to die. So I made up that story and sent you all away."

As Echo spoke, her tempo became faster and faster, as though she wanted those sentences to be over and done with.

"I don't believe you," Bellamy snapped back immediately. "Why would you give a damn about whether I lived or died?"

Her answer was equally quick and to the point. "Because you saved me at the mountain, and then we just left you there." Echo paused, and her chin came up. Prideful. "I pay my debts," she said.

Bellamy found it nearly impossible to believe it could really have been as simple as that. And he was beginning to find the conversation exhausting.

What did it really matter anyway?

"You were still a part of it." His words were clipped, accusatory. "You blew up the mountain, with everyone in it, for no reason."

Echo's brow wrinkled and her eyes narrowed, and she answered as though speaking to a child.

"Because that was my queen's order," she said matter-of-factly. _What else should I have done?_ her expression seemed to say.

But then her face changed, became fierce. "And even if it wasn't, I was happy to blow that place to pieces. The mountain men kept me in a cage, like an animal. I wanted it destroyed."

"And what about the people inside? Did you want them destroyed, too? Did your queen want them destroyed?" _This_ was the part that most mattered to Bellamy.

Echo shrugged. "Those people? They were just...unlucky."

"Unlucky." Bellamy repeated, shaking his head. He'd heard enough. "Are you done now? Because I'd really like my dinner."

Echo nodded, rising from her chair and turning to leave. But then she turned back abruptly.

"I'm still glad I saved you," she said emphatically, as though determined to have the last word. She nodded toward Clarke. "And she's glad, too," she added, before slipping out the door.

**********

The night before, they hadn't given a damn about there being only the one bed in their room. But tonight they weren't quite so exhausted. Tonight it wasn't nearly so easy to ignore their close quarters. Bellamy and Clarke were both silent as they climbed onto the bed.

It was a relief to feel clean again, Bellamy thought, stretching out on the comfortable mattress. Beside him, Clarke was quiet, and he assumed she must have already drifted off to sleep. He _could_ tell himself he was relieved about that, rather than disappointed, because he knew that the quiet intimacy of the private chamber might have proven too much of a temptation. But Bellamy didn't lie, not even to himself.

And as it turned out, Clarke was not asleep.

"It's a good thing," she said suddenly, startling him.

"What is?"

She spoke slowly, as though choosing her words with care.

"What Echo told you. It doesn't matter what her reasons were for saving you, Bellamy. It only matters that she did. And now you know..." she paused, and he heard her take a deep breath, "you understand that there was nothing you could have done to save Gina."

"Clarke..."

"No, Bellamy. I know you've been carrying around this guilt about how she died, but it wasn't your fault."

She seemed so sure and he wanted to believe her, but still. He knew there was more to his guilt about Gina than just how she'd died.

"It's...not just that." Bellamy sighed, wondering how he could explain about Gina. To Clarke. Of all people, to Clarke.

He began again. "Raven said I didn't deserve Gina...and she was right. Gina was like this bright, sweet thing in my life, and I...I loved her for how good she was to me. How she tried to make me feel better about everything."

Bellamy stopped, suddenly recalling his conversation with Clarke near the stone circle.

"You remember how you told me that...Lexa could never be that person for you. Did you mean that one person you connected with like they were already inside your head? That you knew you could be with forever?"

Bellamy waited tensely for Clarke to answer.

"Yes," came the faint but firm response.

"Yeah, that's how I felt about Gina. That we would never have that connection. And she deserved someone who could love her like that, Clarke, because she was a great person."

"I-I'm sure she was," Clarke said, and he heard her swallowing. "Otherwise you would never have been with her at all."

When Bellamy didn't respond, she spoke again, her voice soft and low.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't grieve for Gina, Bellamy. Grieving is what we we do when someone we loved dies. I'm just saying you shouldn't feel guilty about her death, because you're not to blame."

Bellamy turned towards Clarke, while she shifted to face him. For several long moments, they stared at each other in silence, although they could barely make out each others' features in the darkness.

"Are you willing to follow your own advice, then?" he finally asked, his deep voice rumbling into the quiet night. "To grieve without the guilt?"

Bellamy heard her soft sigh.

"I'm willing to try," she said after a moment.

He lifted his right arm then, wrapping it around Clarke. As she snuggled in closer, he bent down to kiss the top of her head.

"Go to sleep, Clarke," he said softly.

Clarke nodded, flinging her arm across his chest.

"Please don't let anything happen to you," she whispered into the darkness. "I need you."

"We need each other," he said.


	9. Chapter 9

From Bellamy's point of view, the strangest thing about parting ways with Murphy and Emori was Emori's gratitude.

Bellamy believed that it was only because of his stubbornness and stupidity that a whole pile of shit had been brought down on her head. Emori considered it far more significant that he had risked his own life to save hers. He supposed both of those things were true, but he couldn't seem to convince her that the second circumstance wouldn't have been necessary if it hadn't been for the first.

Even Murphy seemed grateful, bypassing a farewell handshake to offer hugs to both Bellamy and Clarke.

"Are you sure you're going to be able to deal with that horse, Murphy?" Clarke couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.

Murphy snorted. "Considering what I've already survived on this fucking planet, I think I'll manage."

"Will you go back to Arkadia?" He hadn't meant to even ask the question, but Bellamy was surprised by how much he wanted to think that Murphy would still be around when he returned.

Which was maybe a little strange, considering that at one point each of them had tried to hang the other. He didn't know about Murphy, but Bellamy still had the occasional nightmare about choking, about not being able to breathe.

But then they'd also saved each others' lives. He recalled with a shudder how terrified he'd felt as he'd dangled off that damn cliff. And remembered Murphy's struggle with the chipped grounder in the tower elevator, and how he'd finally had to kill the guy to save Murphy.

Bellamy doubted many friendships had had such an inauspicious beginning, but he couldn't help feeling that's what Murphy was now. A friend.

Murphy's shrug was the only answer Bellamy got to his question. That, and a side-eye toward Emori, already mounted on her horse.

Bellamy nodded. "I understand," he said, aware that Murphy's life choices no longer affected just himself. "But I hope you'll both decide to come back. You know," he added, recalling Murphy's words on the day they'd left on this journey, "Arkadia might not be such a bad place to ride out the end of the world. If that's what it comes down to."

Murphy cocked a brow and gave Bellamy his patented sardonic smile. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, moving away to mount his horse.

"You Skaikru always have so much to say to each other," Roan declared, swinging up on his own horse. "You might have had this conversation yesterday and not delayed our departure with it."

Bellamy and Murphy just grinned as they raised their hands in farewell, Murphy painstakingly turning his horse toward the south-bound track, while Bellamy joined Clarke in the Rover, which had been parked pointing east.

"Are you sure you'll be okay to drive?" she asked for the third time, a worried frown on her face. Clarke had already volunteered to take the wheel, and Bellamy might have considered it if he hadn't been the one who'd tried to teach her how to drive while they were still back in Arkadia. It had not gone well.

He thought maybe he'd discovered one of the few things that Clarke Griffin was not good at.

"I'll be fine," he said, starting the motor and shifting into gear to follow Roan and his warriors down the east-bound track. "Be thankful he got me in the left arm, because I won't need that one as much."

Clarke harrumphed. "I'll never be thankful for anything about that day," she said, and Bellamy could hear the latent fury.

"How about the fact that I'm still alive?" he teased, his head turning towards her while the corners of his lips curled up in a smile.

But Clarke didn't return his smile, choosing instead to gaze out the passenger side window.

"Don't even joke about that," he thought he heard her mutter softly.

XXXXXXXXXX

It promised to be a long day of travel. They'd left early, despite Roan's complaints about prolonged farewells, and were planning to stop only twice for rest and food. Roan was determined to make it as far as the outskirts of Rhyne's village by evening.

The plan - and Bellamy thought it a good one - was to camp for the night a few miles outside the village, and to arrive at Rhyne's home in the morning. Despite his assurances to Clarke, the drive was bound to take a lot out of him, and he didn't want to approach the old woman with his questions about Octavia at the end of a long day of travel.

Clarke was strangely quiet as they drove along, saying little, staring intently out her window as though fascinated by the scenery. After a while, he began to wonder if she felt too confined in the Rover and asked if she preferred riding one of the horses for a while. Maybe, he suggested, she'd like to give Roan or one of the others a chance to ride in the vehicle.

She looked at him oddly, her brow wrinkled. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Never. Thought maybe you might be sick of being stuck in here with me." He shrugged. "That's all."

Clarke shook her head. "I'm sorry I'm such lousy company, Bellamy. I-I've kind of got something on my mind today. But I could never get sick of you," she assured him hurriedly.

"Good," Bellamy smiled. "Me, either. Why don't you take a nap or something. If you want."

So the journey was long, arduous, and often silent, and by the time Roan held up his hand for them to halt, Bellamy was more than ready to call it a day. After a quick meal, he and Clarke decided to once again bunk down in the Rover. It wasn't all that comfortable, but it would keep them dry from the drizzle that had begun to fall.

After everything that the long day had taken out of him, Bellamy should have drifted off immediately, but he found his mind was racing, despite his physical exhaustion.

Tomorrow, he would speak with Lincoln's grandmother. Find out if Octavia had made it there. Maybe, if she had, find out what had passed between them. But for the first time since he'd begun this journey, Bellamy could see no further than the next day. He had no plan in mind beyond questioning an old woman who might very well be of no help at all.

And besides, their allotted time away from Arkadia was nearly up. They were due back with the Rover very soon, and Bellamy knew that after that he would have to focus on more than just Octavia. He'd have other, far greater, problems to deal with.

For the first time, Bellamy forced himself to consider that he might not find his sister. That he might have to live whatever was left of the rest of his life never knowing exactly what had happened to Octavia. On that disturbing thought, he at last fell into a restless sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

As grounder dwellings went, Bellamy supposed that Rhyne's was larger than most, since it contained not only the main room where they now stood, but also several smaller ones that led off from it. He wondered where the healer saw her "patients." Was there a special room set aside for that purpose, or did it simply not matter?

As she stood beside him, he sensed Clarke's excitement at meeting this revered Azgeda healer. For as silent as she'd been the day before, she'd woken this morning chattering about all the things she could potentially learn from Rhyne.

"The Trikru have developed wonderful natural remedies, Bellamy. But I'm sure an Azgeda healer would have different things she could teach me. New things. And, let's face it. This is probably going to be my one and only chance to interact with an Azgeda healer. Especially one as renowned as Rhyne."

Bellamy was happy for her. She'd come on this journey only to help him, so he was glad that she was at last going to get something positive from it.

Rhyne had been shocked - and maybe even a little skeptical - when she'd heard that King Roan had arrived in the village for the express purpose of speaking with her. But the village heda had assured her that it was, indeed, the king. It was only when Roan, Bellamy, and Clarke finally entered the woman's house that Rhyne smiled in understanding.

There were formalities to be taken care of when the King of Azgeda deigned to visit your home. But once those had been completed, Rhyne turned immediately to Bellamy.

"You are her brother. You look very alike, you know."

He didn't know, hadn't ever really thought about it. They'd had different fathers, so he never considered they had anything like a family resemblance. But at that moment, all he really cared about was that he now knew that Octavia had been there. And that one of the things she'd talked about was him.

"I'll leave you for now," Roan said.

When they'd arrived in the village, Bellamy had thought that Roan would return to the capital as soon as they'd contacted Rhyne, but it seemed that instead he intended to see them all the way out of Azgeda territory. And considering what had happened to them only a few days before, Bellamy couldn't dredge up a single objection to that.

But for the moment Roan had left them, retreating outside to give them some privacy. Clarke offered to leave, too, but her offer was tentative.

"Unless you want me to stay," she added, somewhat diffidently.

"I do," Bellamy said quickly. "Please don't go."

Clarke nodded, pleased, and Rhyne observed them closely as though trying to decipher their exact relationship. _Good luck with that,_ Bellamy wanted to say. _If you figure it out, you can let_ me _know_.

The old woman nodded finally, apparently satisfied with whatever conclusions she had drawn, and invited them to sit. Refreshment was offered, and while Bellamy's first instinct was to decline, a raised eyebrow from Clarke had him reconsidering.

"Thank you," he said, nodding.

She served them both what looked like wine, but when he took a sip he couldn't help wincing a bit at the sour taste.

Rhyne laughed. "Your sister didn't like it, either. And she was less polite about it than you are."

Bellamy smiled and nodded. "No, Octavia doesn't hide her feelings well. About big things or small ones."

"Yes," she agreed. "Octavia does not bother to wear a mask to disguise her opinions."

They were silent, then, Clarke quietly sipping her Azgedan wine, while Bellamy simply held onto the cup.

He sighed finally, seeing no way to avoid the subject. "She told you, I suppose."

"About Lincoln? Yes, she did," Rhyne said, nodding sadly. "I had heard something about his death before, but not the exact...circumstances. Octavia," the old woman faltered slightly, "described it to me. How it happened. The...the gun."

Bellamy put down the cup as gently as he could before fisting his hands in his lap. _What was he to say to that?_

"You were not there? Either of you?" Rhyne asked, shifting her glance between the two of them.

"No," Clarke answered softly. "Lincoln was...I considered him a great friend. If I had been there...if either of us had been there..." Clarke's voice trailed off as she looked over at Bellamy.

"We let Lincoln down," he sighed. "It shouldn't have happened, but we weren't - either of us - there to stop it." He reached across and picked up Rhyne's hand. "I'm so sorry," he said, wondering if he could ever convey to Lincoln's grandmother the depth of his sorrow over her grandson's death.

Clarke reached over and covered their linked hands with her own, and he could see the wetness on her lashes.

"Lincoln was a wonderful person," she said. "He died a hero."

Rhyne looked up in surprise. "A hero? Octavia said nothing about that."

Clarke frowned. "But surely..." She began again. "She must have explained to you that he sacrificed himself for the other Trikru that the chancellor had imprisoned."

"The man, Pike," Rhyne said, nodding. "Yes, Octavia told me about him. But nothing about other Trikru."

Bellamy picked up the story. "Lincoln had nearly escaped, but then he turned himself in to save the others. And they're all still alive because of that. Returned to their homes."

Rhyne sighed. "Thank you for telling me, but I am not surprised to hear it. It sounds exactly like what Lincoln would do."

She put down her own cup carefully, as her eyes took on a faraway look.

"Did Lincoln ever speak to you about his family?" she asked. "His _nomon_ or his _nontu_?"

Clarke shook her head, while Bellamy nodded, "A little."

Rhyne gave a small laugh, remembering. "My daughter was always a gentle girl, most unlike the other girls in the village. She had no interest in being a warrior, and I was training her to be a healer, like me."

She nodded at Clarke then, as if to say _You understand_ , and Bellamy knew at once that Octavia had also spoken to her about Clarke. Maybe even about Abby.

"So one day," she resumed her tale, "a handsome young Trikru warrior arrived with the Commander on their way to our capital. It was so long ago I can't even remember _which_ Commander, but it was during a time of peace between the clans. And my girl's head was turned. She fell in love. When the Trikru came back through on the way home, she left with him."

Rhyne shook her head.

"As is so often the case, each did not really understand what the other was about. Lincoln's father thought he was getting a fierce Azgeda warrior, not my gentle healer daughter, and _she_ was just happy being in love."

Her sigh was full of sadness.

"Things may have turned out differently, but my sweet girl died when Lincoln was born."

Rhyne paused, looked away and he could see her eyes fill with tears. She blinked them away.

"Even though my daughter was dead, the war between his _nomon_ and his _nontu_ forever raged on in Lincoln's heart."

When she saw Bellamy nod, she said, "He told you of this? Then you must have been a very good friend, Bellamy Blake."

Her brow wrinkled. "So why then does your sister blame you for my grandson's death?"

"I...made some bad choices. I believed the man Pike was doing the right thing long before he made Lincoln a prisoner."

"But he was not?"

"He thought he was, but he was mistaken. And even so, I never..." Bellamy's eyes closed against the unwelcome memory. "I never thought he'd go that far."

"But when he did? After he'd killed Lincoln? You did not think you should avenge my grandson yourself?" She asked the question without inflection, as though her interest in the matter was completely impersonal.

Bellamy sighed. There was no doubt she'd hit him where it hurt.

"I finally learned enough about myself to understand that I couldn't kill just for the sake of vengeance. I'd already tried to be that person, but it just didn't...fit. And I couldn't make it fit, not even for Lincoln," he added.

When Rhyne made no response, Bellamy continued.

"And as wrong as I thought Pike was, our people had still chosen him to be chancellor. I thought he should be dealt with by a new chancellor. Or by his enemies. In fact, I finally had to turn Pike over to the Trikru to save the rest of our people."

He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"And then later, when we had to fight against the machine, Pike and I fought side by side. And he never complained that I'd betrayed him. He just...had my back. He even saved Octavia there at the end."

Rhyne was startled out of her silence.

"This man, this...chancellor," she stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar word, "he saved Octavia's life?"

Bellamy nodded. "Yes," he said. "We were in the middle of a battle, and I could see she was in trouble, but I couldn't help her." He remembered his horror when he'd thought he was about to watch his sister die before his eyes. "Pike jumped in when I couldn't."

"So," Rhyne nodded, "the man saved her and she repaid this act of bravery and kindness by killing him."

"Yes," Bellamy said, not bothering to dress it up in pretty colors. "That's exactly what she did."

"Ah," Rhyne said, "I think I begin to understand."

"Understand?"

"Octavia insisted she had not only the right but the obligation to kill Pike, and she would not be swayed. But I see now why she was clinging to her vengeful act as being right and necessary. Because if it was not, then she has killed a man who saved her life, and that would be more than just a mistake, or an act of passion. It would be dishonorable."

"And did you try to sway her, Rhyne?" Clarke asked. Bellamy was momentarily startled. He'd almost forgotten she was there. "Did you try to change her thinking?"

"I did," she said, nodding. "I told her that in the war within his heart between healer and warrior, I believed Lincoln would, whenever possible, come down on the side of mercy."

She sighed then. "And then I told her that I, too, would have left the man Pike to his fate. Whatever that might have been."

There was silence all around as Bellamy pondered Rhyne's words.

He couldn't help but wonder about Octavia's state of mind when she'd left Rhyne. She'd spoken to three people now, all of whom had been close to Lincoln. Had, in fact, known the man far longer than had Octavia herself. And all three had told her that Lincoln would never have agreed with her choice to plunge that sword into Pike.

Bellamy wondered where she might go next in her quest for validation. For approbation. He was about to ask Rhyne if she knew where Octavia had been headed when the old woman broke her silence on a sigh.

"I could see," she said, "that Octavia loved my grandson very much, and I have no doubt that Lincoln loved her in return. But I did begin to wonder if she really knew him at all. If she truly understood the man she'd fallen in love with. I've seen it before, you see, and it can be very painful."

"Seen it?" Clarke's question was immediate.

"The gap between who we think we love and the person they really are."

Rhyne smiled at them.

"But I can see that that will never be a problem for the two of you," she said brightly.

The statement just hung out there until the silence seemed to fill up the room, and Clarke and Bellamy looked everywhere but at each other.

"Do you know where Octavia was going next?" he finally managed to ask, clearing his throat and finding his voice at last.

"I'm sorry," the old woman shook her head. "I don't think she knew herself. Although I did tell her I thought she should make peace with you, Bellamy. And now that we've met, I hope even more that she follows that advice."

Rhyne shrugged. "So perhaps she's headed back to wherever she thinks you are."

Bellamy huffed a laugh. Was the answer to be one filled with irony? Had they chased after Octavia only to find that she'd returned to Arkadia?

"Didn't you have some questions for Rhyne, Clarke?" he asked, chancing a glance at her.

Clarke nodded and expressed her desire to talk medicine with the Azgeda healer. Bellamy stood, preparing to thank the old woman, thinking he'd leave them to it. But Rhyne rose, too, stopping him with a hand on his arm.

"You are a good brother, Bellamy Blake," she said earnestly, "and a good man. And I know you must have been a good friend to my grandson. Never doubt that."

Bellamy felt his eyes well up and he knew he'd have to get out of there quickly.

"Thank you for saying that, Rhyne. And thank you for your help."

She gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure if I was any help at all, but I am glad you came " she said, her smile soft, almost...affectionate.

 _Me, too,_ he thought, squeezing her hand. _You'll never know how much._

XXXXXXXXXX

Bellamy's arm had begun to ache as he sat in Rhyne's house, but he'd done his best to ignore the pain. Perhaps it was stupid - there were, after all, two healers right there - but Bellamy preferred not to dull his senses with pain meds. Even the natural kind.

He'd been sitting for such a long time that he thought it might do him some good to take a short walk while Clarke gleaned as much Azgedan medical lore as she could handle in a short time. But he'd forgotten that he might also have had a concussion, and that his torso was covered with bruises. Or that healing not only took time but also sapped the energy from his body.

He returned from his walk quickly, short of breath, hoping Clarke was still occupied with Rhyne. Because she'd kill him herself if she thought he was overtaxing his stressed-out body.

What he didn't expect was to be given a hard time by the king of Azgeda.

"Where have you been, Skaikru?" Roan asked testily, when Bellamy finally made it back to the spot where the Rover was parked and the others were camped.

"I went for a walk, your majesty," he answered tartly. "Not that it's any of your business."

"I'm making it my business, since I prefer that you not get killed while you're still on my lands. And that would be a lot easier to make sure of if I knew where you were."

Bellamy understood that Roan was just trying to keep him safe, but he was tired, and sore, and frustrated as hell because they still hadn't found Octavia. And because he had no idea where to look next.

"Yeah? Well, if you want to keep an eye on me, you're going to have to do it the Rover, because that's where I'm headed."

He hadn't really expected the man to follow him, so when he opened the driver's side door and saw Roan opening the passenger door and sliding onto the seat, Bellamy was startled.

Roan studied the Rover's interior with curious eyes.

"Your people have a lot of machines. A lot of...what's the word you use? Tech...?"

"Technology," Bellamy nodded. "Yes, we do. Technology is what kept us alive up in space for almost a century."

He looked pointedly at Roan.

"But while we've made some advancements, a lot of what we have had already been developed by our ancestors while they were still on the ground." He paused. "Those would be your ancestors, too."

"Yes, I understand that's true," Roan said, acknowledging their shared history. "But you are the ones who still have this knowledge. Who know how it all works. Who might be able to use it to save us all."

Bellamy nodded, sure that Roan had something else on his mind, but he was quiet for so long that Bellamy thought perhaps their unexpectedly friendly conversation was at an end.

But when the Azgedan spoke again, it wasn't at all what he expected.

"Tell me about the woman," he said, and it was more a command than a question.

But Bellamy was perplexed. _The woman?_

"Do you mean Clarke?"

Roan gave a short bark of laughter. "I suppose it's not so strange that when I say 'the woman', you think first of your own woman."

Bellamy protested immediately. "Clarke is not my woman."

"Yes, yes. So you say. And she would probably say the same." Roan shrugged lightly. "But that doesn't make it any less true. No, no," he added, seeing Bellamy open his mouth again, "we won't argue the point. But I don't mean Clarke. I know Clarke well enough."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at Roan, as his mind leaped to places he'd really rather it hadn't. "What does that mean?" The question just tumbled out.

Roan's amusement grew, and his lips spread into a grin that Bellamy thought must surely resemble a shark's.

"Not what you're thinking, Skaikru. Only that I spent enough time with Clarke while we were in Polis. I believe I know her as well as I need to."

Bellamy felt a surge of relief, followed by one of embarrassment. He knew it was none of his business who Clarke might have chosen to...favor.

Roan tried again.

"We were speaking," he said, "of your technology."

And finally understanding dawned. "You mean Raven. You're asking about Raven."

Bellamy wondered why he'd been so slow, considering the sparks he'd seen flying between their resident genius and the Azgedan king at that meeting in Arkadia. He supposed that his only excuse was that he'd had other things on his mind.

Bellamy's lips curled in amusement. He could hardly wait to tease Raven about attracting the attentions of a _king_.

"What do you want to know?"

Roan shrugged. "She is clearly...clever."

" _Clever_ doesn't even come close. Raven is a fucking genius. We'd all be dead a dozen times over if it weren't for her."

When Roan nodded, saying, "I can easily believe that," Bellamy wasn't sure if the remark was meant as an acknowledgement of Raven's abilities or a comment on the general ineptitude of the Sky People.

"But I wondered about...her leg. Has it always been so? Or was there some injury?"

Bellamy saw no point in keeping Roan in the dark about Raven's leg.

"She was shot," he said. "Abby Griffin removed the bullet, but there was still extensive nerve damage, and she had no way of repairing it."

He looked at Roan closely, wondering how he would react to the next piece of information.

"There was better equipment in Mt. Weather and Abby thought she could use it to fix up Raven's leg." He paused. "But then you blew up the mountain."

Bellamy could see the protest forming on Roan's lips. He never voiced it, but his brows drew together in a deep frown.

"Yes," he agreed, "we Azgeda blew up the mountain. We had our reasons, but perhaps...it was not our finest hour."

_You think? Betraying your own coalition? Destroying valuable resources? Killing innocent non-combatants?_

Bellamy thought it all, but there would have been little point in telling Roan things he more than likely already knew.

"So she will have this injury forever?" Roan asked, shifting back to Raven.

"Yeah, and it really sucks. Raven is a great person."

"So...you know her well."

Bellamy nodded. One thing he was _not_ going into was his personal history with Raven.

"And is there a man in her life? Or...a woman?" Perhaps he intended the question to sound casual, but Bellamy knew that casual wasn't Roan's style.

He shrugged. "I think that's something you need to ask her yourself."

Roan nodded. "I agree," he said, opening the Rover door and slipping back outside.

Bellamy leaned back in the seat, surprised by the abruptness of Roan's departure. And astonished that the man had initiated such a personal conversation. He couldn't wait to hear what Clarke would think when he repeated it to her.

The retelling would, of course, be carefully edited.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bellamy didn't know how long he'd slept on the cramped front seat of the Rover, but it seemed like only minutes later that Clarke was shaking him awake.

"Hey," he said groggily, smiling at her with genuine pleasure, happy, as always, to see her. "How did you get on with Rhyne? Have you learned all kinds of Azgeda miracle cures?"

"We got along great," Clarke said, returning his smile. "She's a pretty remarkable person."

Bellamy nodded. "I don't doubt that Lincoln comes from a long line of remarkable people."

"But we didn't just talk about medicine and healing, Bellamy. I also learned a lot about Azgeda customs. And the thing is..."

Clarke paused for a moment, and he watched as she pressed her lips together, a sure sign she had mulled something over and come to a decision.

"The thing is, Bellamy...well, I think I might know where Octavia's gone."


	10. Chapter 10

_Can it really be that simple?_

It was what Bellamy had been asking himself over and over since Clarke explained her theory. That Octavia might have traveled hundreds of miles only to come full circle.

Right back to the beginning.

It had seemed to him so unlikely, but when she'd returned from her afternoon with the renowned Azgeda healer, Clarke had been equally certain she was right.

"It makes sense if you think about it," she'd insisted.

They'd decided to spend the night in the Rover, and had reclined the front seats to get as comfortable as possible. They could have moved to the rear benches, he supposed, but that would have put Clarke further from him than arm's length. Bellamy wasn't sure if that had influenced Clarke's preference for the front seat, but it had certainly informed his own.

In this position, there was just enough moonlight for him to make out her features as they spoke quietly, discussing Clarke's hypothesis, trying to decide if they should use what little time they had left to pursue it. Not that there was really much of an alternative.

And besides, she was so damn sure.

"What else is there left for Octavia to do, Bellamy, what other place left to go? Rhyne said she seemed so lost, and so tired. I think, after talking to Indra and then Luna, she might have thought of Lincoln's grandmother as her last chance. The last person who would applaud what Octavia thought of as her righteous vengeance."

"But Rhyne didn't applaud."

"No, she didn't. She said the same thing as the others. That Lincoln wouldn't have approved."

Clarke paused abruptly then, and appeared to be studying him closely. She was obviously mulling something over, some point about which she was undecided.

Bellamy had a sudden suspicion the conversation was about to take a turn, and that he wouldn't like where it was headed. He watched as her hesitation morphed into resolve, as she pressed her lips together, determined.

"But Rhyne went even further, Bellamy," she said firmly. "She told you herself that she urged Octavia to reconcile with you. And considering what she did to you..."

"Clarke..." He tried to interrupt, even though he knew it was unlikely he'd be able to head her off.

"No, Bellamy. I want to talk about this. Please don't try to excuse Octavia or defend her. Not to me."

They'd never discussed it. Octavia using him, using his body, to vent her anger and her grief over Lincoln's death. But he'd always known the conversation would happen eventually, and that Clarke would have an opinion. And that her opinion wouldn't be sympathetic towards Octavia.

"Miller told me what happened," she said. Now that she'd finally broached it, he accepted she wasn't going to let it go until she'd had her say.

Bellamy sighed quietly, resigned. "What did he say?"

Clarke made no effort to conceal her disapproval. "That you just stood there and let her beat the shit out of you. That the others tried to stop it, but you wouldn't let them. That you allowed yourself to be her punching bag. Dammit, Bellamy!"

She turned away but he could see the shine in her eyes. He mentally kicked himself for once again being the cause of Clarke Griffin's tears.

"She'd just told me," he said, closing his eyes against the painful memory. "That Lincoln was dead. And I just..."

He paused, trying to think of a way to explain the inexplicable.

"You just thought you'd expiate your guilt and her grief by letting her wale away at you," she said baldly. "How'd that work for you?"

"You weren't there, Clarke. You can't know," he tried, but he knew it would make no difference.

"No," she said, her words deliberate. "Because if I _had_ been there, it never would have happened. And I wouldn't have given a shit if you thought I was butting in!"

She paused to collect herself, and Bellamy understood that this discussion was probably nearly as painful for her as it was for him.

"And then maybe," she said, spitting out the quiet words like bullets, "I wouldn't have had to travel all these miles with you wondering if that cut on your left cheek was ever going to heal, or if it might be a lifelong reminder of what your sister did to you."

Bellamy looked away, out the window, into the darkness that surrounded them. Tried to think of the right words to make her understand.

"She was sick with grief, Clarke. And she needed something...someone...to blame. And I was...safe. She knew I wouldn't hit back." He fidgeted a little, shifting his body, finally turning to face her. "It was...it's always been..."

 _Dammit!_ He paused in frustration, wiping his hand across his eyes. Kept going.

"When she was little, and she got frustrated, or upset, I'd let her...hit on me a little. She just...she didn't have any other way to let go of her anger."

Bellamy willed her to understand how it had always been. How he had always been Octavia's safe harbor, a place to vent her anger without repercussion.

Clarke's smile was small and just barely reached her eyes. She grabbed his hand, holding onto it tightly, rubbing her thumb across his palm.

"I see how it must have been," she said softly. "I know what you gave up for her, how you spent your life taking care of her."

She gave her head a tiny shake.

"But Octavia isn't a little girl anymore, Bellamy. And her punches aren't ineffectual swats. She's a trained warrior, and she used deadly force on you. You're lucky..." Clarke faltered just a bit..."you're lucky she didn't do more damage. Permanent damage."

Her eyes locked on his as she squeezed his hand.

"I can't stand the thought that you keep getting hurt. But at least...," she exhaled roughly and glanced briefly at their clasped hands, "...at least if we're at war, or you're trying to save a life with some crazy heroics, or even if it's just some pompous Azgeda heda being an asshole, I can accept that that's the way it sometimes is on this fucking planet."

Her words were heavy with that same fierceness that had seen her through all the months of conflict and terror.

"But this was your sister, Bellamy, and I don't accept that. The same sister you cared for since childhood. You even shot the goddamned chancellor so you could come to the ground and protect her. And we've just spent two weeks searching for her, even though we should be back in Arkadia trying to figure out how to stop this place from killing us all."

Clarke sighed.

"In her head, she can blame you all she wants for your part in what happened to Lincoln. But she doesn't have the right to hurt you like that." She paused. "And you're not letting it happen again."

It wasn't a question, or an entreaty, Bellamy knew. She looked ready to fight him on the point, but it wouldn't be necessary.

He sighed, agreeing. "It's not happening again."

Clarke looked surprised at the ease with which she'd achieved this victory. Her brow wrinkled.

"I know you would never hurt Octavia." It wasn't a question. And yet it was.

"No," he agreed. "But I won't have to. Octavia may be a warrior now, but I've still got fifty pounds and six inches on her, so I think I can keep her from hurting me. If...I need to."

She nodded and they both fell silent.

But now she'd brought up that terrible day and Bellamy couldn't keep his mind from following along the same path it always traveled. To the moment that had hurt far worse than any bruise Octavia might have inflicted on his body.

"She said I was dead to her." He had to choke out the words, because just saying them out loud made them all too painfully real. Bellamy felt sick each time he remembered what Octavia had flung at him with such disdain. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"

He could see the compassion in Clarke's soft lips and kind eyes.

"I don't know, Bellamy," she said honestly.

And now he was the one grasping for _her_ hand, searching for comfort.

"I'd like to think," she said earnestly, "that Octavia could grow up enough to understand that there doesn't have to be a reason for every bad thing that happens in her life. Or that she needs to always look for someone to blame."

She shifted in her seat just enough so that the moonlight framed her from behind, abruptly throwing her face into shadow. "And will you forgive her?" she asked softly.

Bellamy smiled wryly. "It's O, Clarke. I don't know how _not_ to forgive her."

XXXXXXXXXX

Early the next morning, near the border of his lands, they parted company with Roan. It would only be a brief parting because in a few short days he was due in Arkadia for Kane's next planning meeting.

"It was a pleasure to entertain you both," Roan said, and Bellamy noted the sardonic smile. "But perhaps next time you'll wait for a personal invitation."

"Pretty sure I can happily spend the rest of my life without ever setting foot in the Ice Nation again," Bellamy said. "However the hell much is _left_ of my life."

"There is that," Roan agreed. He clasped hands with them both before remounting his horse and turning with his men toward the northward track.

There was a reticence between Clarke and Bellamy as the Rover made its way across the vague boundary that separated the Azgeda and Trikru territories. It was not hostile or uncomfortable, but their conversation the night before had been both painful and exhausting, and they might have felt the need to pull back from all those exposed feelings.

Bellamy wondered if all along he'd just been waiting for Clarke to force the issue. Maybe he craved the reassurance that she cared that he'd been hurt. Cared enough to be angry on his behalf. Cared, period.

But it had still been an emotional conversation, and the calm quiet was a welcome relief. For several hours, they continued southward and eastward along the by-now-familiar track with only the occasional murmured word between them.

Until Clarke finally broke the silence with a question.

"What will you do if she's not there?" she asked, as if she could no longer hold it back.

Bellamy shrugged, a bit startled by the sound of her voice. "Not much I can do. I can't keep looking for her forever, especially without a clue, or a lead, or any kind of direction."

"But will you be okay with that?" Her tone was tentative, apprehensive.

Bellamy had a sudden revelation. He stopped the Rover so abruptly that Clarke, unprepared, was thrown a bit sideways.

"What the hell, Bellamy!"

"I'm sorry, that was stupid," he said apologetically. "But we need to have this out right now, before we get there."

"Have what out?"

Bellamy could see no point in being anything but direct. "It's finally hit me why you came on this trip, Clarke."

"I came because I wanted to help you," she declared. "And because I was sick of being separated from you," she added candidly. "But you already knew that."

"So you said," he agreed. "But can you also admit that you thought I might...I don't know...go off the deep end or something? If I couldn't find Octavia, or if I found her and it didn't go well? That maybe you had to keep an eye on me?"

Clarke shifted uncomfortably.

"I would have come along no matter what, Bellamy. I wasn't lying when I said I'd be anxious the whole time you were gone."

Then she sighed softly, admitting unhappily, "But it's also true that ever since our first trip to see Luna, I've been concerned about you being so at odds with Octavia."

"Clarke," he said softly, reaching across the seat to pick up one of the hands lying loosely in her lap. "That means a lot to me. But you shouldn't have to worry about me--"

"Are you kidding?" She interrupted him, indignant. She tried to remove her hand from his grasp, but he held on tight. "What happened to _we need each other?_ Or didn't you mean that?"

"Of course I meant it. Why would you even think--?"

She didn't let him finish.

"Then I get to worry about how you're feeling. I get to show concern for your well-being. I get to be _afraid_ for your fucking safety when you're fucking forced into mortal combat against your will!"

Clarke's voice rose with every "right" she catalogued. And there was a challenge in her eyes, as if daring him to insist that she give up any of those privileges.

Bellamy barked out a short laugh. "Okay," he said. "Point taken. And if I ever have to fight any more grounder champions, I will have no objections to you sending for reinforcements."

He smiled at her then, grabbing onto her other hand.

"But please stop worrying about how I'll deal with Octavia. I mean, it hurts like hell that she hates me so much right now--"

"She doesn't hate you!"

"She does," he insisted quietly, squeezing her hands. "And I never thought she'd hold onto that hate for so long. But..." Bellamy shrugged, "I know I don't have any control over how she feels. Or where she goes. Or really, anything at all anymore. And I think I've...learned to accept that."

He gave his head a small shake, astonished that he'd actually been able to reach that point.

"I'll always want her to be near me, to be a part of my life," he said. "But if I can't have that, if she doesn't want it, then it's what I've been telling everyone all along. I just need to know that she's okay. That's all. I won't like it...but I can live with it."

Clarke looked like she wanted to believe him.

"Are you sure?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he nodded, "I am."

Satisfied that he'd said everything that needed saying, Bellamy let go of her hands, shifted in his seat, and restarted the Rover. They still had a long way to go.

They were only about twenty miles from their destination when he felt his eyelids droop, and he realized they weren't going to make it that day. Clarke had already fallen asleep in the passenger seat and he hated to wake her up, but she needed to know they'd be spending another night in the Rover.

"Clarke," he said quietly, pulling off the track into a copse of sturdy maples. "I'm too tired to drive. We'll have to spend the night here."

"Um," she muttered, waking only momentarily, waving him away with her hand before turning over in her seat and falling back to sleep. For all the world like a tired, cranky child.

Bellamy laughed softly, shaking his head, wondering if he would ever discover all the pieces of the intricate puzzle that was Clarke Griffin.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Clarke first told him that they should look for Octavia in Lincoln's cave, Bellamy had thought she was crazy.

"Isn't that the last place she'd want to go?" he'd asked. "Wouldn't it be too...painful?"

She'd just shrugged. "Maybe. But Rhyne said that it's what the Azgeda do when a loved one dies. They make a pilgrimage to the places that have special meaning for them. And for Octavia, that would be the first place Lincoln brought her. The place they fell in love."

 _Yeah, okay, maybe,_ he'd thought. On her own, she would likely have avoided the place, but if Lincoln's grandmother told her about the Azgeda custom, Octavia might have felt compelled to follow it. To honor Lincoln. And if she was still searching for the magic pill that would ease her grief, she was pretty much out of other options, anyway.

But so was he. All along this journey they'd guessed right about the path Octavia was following, but they'd always managed to arrive just too late. Held up by the weather, by unexpected adversaries, by their own physical limitations.

Maybe this time they'd get lucky.

If nothing else, if they were too late again, or if she'd never made that pilgrimage at all, at least they'd be nearly back to Arkadia.

So here they were, on what he knew would have to be the last day of their journey, only a scant few miles from where they'd begun it. He and Clarke had risen early, determined to get to the cave by mid-morning, and soon the Rover was deep into the forest track.

When the woods became thicker and the track all but disappeared, they were forced to leave the Rover behind and trek the last few miles on foot. It occurred to him that if Octavia were there, she'd have come on horseback and would have had no such limitation. So when a moment later they heard a soft, snuffling sound, followed by a couple of louder snorts, it was the first sign that they may have caught up to her at last. They would never be Bellamy's favorite mode of transportation, but since they'd come to the ground, he'd been around enough horses to know when he was hearing a whinny.

Clarke turned to him, a hopeful smile on her face. "I think, maybe..."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Me, too."

As they hurried down the path, the prospect of success encouraging them to pick up their pace, Bellamy wondered how best to proceed. Not by just stumbling unannounced into that cave, because that might get him a knife in the chest. Octavia had pretty much become an advocate of "attack first, ask questions later."

Bellamy grabbed Clarke's arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Wait. Let's think about this a minute."

"Right," she nodded. "How do you want to approach her?"

"We need to let her know we're here. Then, if she won't come out, we go in to talk to her."

Clarke looked at him uncertainly.

"Bellamy, after what happened, even if she knows it's us..."

"It'll be okay, Clarke."

"I know it will," she said, "but just...let me call out to her. She doesn't even have to know you're here."

"I really don't think that'll be necessary," Bellamy said tightly, dismayed by her implication.

"Please, Bellamy. Just to be sure." The sympathy in Clarke's eyes told him everything she didn't want to put into words.

"Okay." His nod was curt, his vexation not with Clarke but with how fractured his relationship with his sister had become. So broken, in fact, that Clarke was afraid of what his mere presence might trigger in Octavia.

They continued down the path, and he knew they were close when they came upon Octavia's tired nag tied loosely to the heavy branch of a large tree. A few more steps brought them to the mouth of Lincoln's cave.

Bellamy nodded at her, and Clarke called out firmly, "Octavia? Are you in there?"

For a frustratingly long time there was no response, but then they finally heard her voice.

"Is that you, Clarke? I knew someone was out there. You'd be a lousy warrior. You make too much noise." Her tone wasn't hostile, but neither was it friendly.

"Yeah, silent tracking's not my strong suit," Clarke acknowledged impatiently. "Look, can you come out here, Octavia?"

The response took even longer this time. "I don't have anything to say to you, Clarke. Or anything I want to hear from you."

"Well, that's too bad," Clarke said. "Because we need to talk. So I'm coming in now,"

She wasted no time in moving into the cave, Bellamy on her heels. He felt a profound sense of relief when he saw Octavia emerge from the deep shadows at the rear of the cave. She was there, she was whole, and even if she hated him, she was still safe. At least for the moment.

Octavia's face reflected her shock at seeing him there.

"Looks like you need a refresher course on that tracking," Clarke said matter-of-factly. "Since you didn't seem to catch that there were two of us."

"Guess I should have expected it," Octavia said, her lips twisted in an odd expression that was halfway between a smirk and a sneer. "You two have always been joined at the hip."

She turned a cold eye on Bellamy.

"What are you doing here?"

"You disappeared, Octavia. I've been looking for you. To make sure you're okay."

"I'm not coming back with you," she said immediately, her tone hostile. "To all those people who wanted Lincoln dead."

Bellamy sighed. "I didn't want Lincoln dead, Octavia. He was my friend, and I would do anything, give anything--"

"Too damn late!" Octavia said, stalking angrily towards him.

When Clarke stepped directly into her path, Octavia stopped in surprise.

"What are you doing, Octavia? Planning to go for round two?"

Bellamy was appalled. Despite their talk, he never thought Clarke would actually try to shield him physically.

"Clarke, stop. This is between O and me."

But Clarke had never been very good at biting her tongue.

"So I should just let her take advantage of the fact that you feel guilty about every single bad thing that happens?" She was speaking to Bellamy, but her eyes never left Octavia.

"He _is_ guilty," Octavia insisted.

"Of what?" Clarke shot back. "Tell me about Bellamy's crime."

"Lincoln's death. He's the reason why Lincoln died." Octavia's voice rose as she bit out her condemnation of her brother in staccato syllables.

" _He's_ the reason? _Bellamy_ is? But I thought that was Pike, Octavia. Isn't that why you had to exact your revenge? Run Pike through with your sword? Because no matter what else the man had done...good or bad... the only thing that mattered was that he shot Lincoln."

Octavia's lips twisted, and Bellamy could see how the mere mention of Lincoln's death brought her grief to the surface. "Yeah. That's right. Pike pulled the trigger so he needed to die, but it was still Bellamy's fault," she said, her voice thrumming with certainty. "He could have stopped it."

"Maybe a lot of people could have stopped it, Octavia. Did you think about that?"

Octavia was silent, her mouth set in a stubborn line, but Clarke wasn't backing down.

"Maybe _I_ killed Lincoln when I let Lexa talk me into agreeing to bow to her, to making us the thirteenth clan. Or maybe _Kane_ did when he went along with it and accepted the brand. Because it seems like everyone else in Arkadia hated the idea."

"What the hell does all that political shit have to do with anything?" It was clear that to Octavia, politics were irrelevant.

But Clarke kept right on talking, gaining momentum as she ticked off her points.

"Maybe it was the Azgeda when they killed all those kids from Farm Station for no reason at all, except that they were _there_. And turned Pike from a dedicated teacher into a man so filled with hate and paranoia that he thought only in terms of _us_ and _them_."

Clarke's lips twisted with her own grief as she continued to parcel out blame.

"Or maybe it was Lexa, when she put out the kill order on Lincoln, and he was forced to stay in Arkadia. I know the two of you wanted to get away."

Bellamy's eyes stung when he recalled his talk with Octavia on the roof of Mt. Weather. On a day when he'd still believed that the only thing that could ever come between them was geography. Octavia's eyes flicked briefly across his face and he knew that she was remembering that day, too.

The day the Azgeda blew up Mt. Weather. The day Gina died. The day Clarke refused to come home. _One of the worst days of his life._

"Or maybe..." and now Clarke's voice had softened, and he could see that Octavia was beginning to listen, suddenly mesmerized by this litany of who might be held accountable for Lincoln's death. "Maybe _you_ are partly responsible, Octavia. Because when Bellamy offered to intercede with Pike, you chained him to a rock instead of listening to his plan."

"Clarke, no!" he protested, grabbing her arm and pulling her around to face him. "Why are you doing this? You're just making it worse for her."

It was a harsh indictment, and only someone as ruthless as Clarke would have ever suggested it. She shook off his arm, and swung back to Octavia, determination etched in her face.

"She needs to learn that things are never as simple as they seem. That sometimes we take actions, and those actions have consequences that we never, ever expect."

"He should have done something a lot sooner," Octavia said, and though her words were uttered with contempt, he could see the doubt bloom in her eyes.

And so could Clarke.

"It's not so easy trying to decide who gets the blame when you start parceling it out, is it, Octavia?

"Please, don't," Bellamy said quietly. He wanted so badly to go to Octavia, to assure her that Lincoln's death wasn't her fault. But his touch...even the sentiment...would not have been welcomed. Not from him.

But Clarke must have felt she'd made her point, because she sighed then and placed a comforting hand on Octavia's shoulder. And Bellamy suddenly remembered that Lincoln had been Clarke's friend, too.

"Lincoln was a fine man, Octavia. And his death was a tragedy. But he died a hero. Saving his people."

Bellamy thought this accolade might have brought Octavia at least some small comfort, but instead, her face twisted with grief.

"So did he care about them more? Those people he died for. More than...me?" she asked of no one in particular.

 _My god, is this what she's been thinking?_ Bellamy was appalled.

"Octavia, no!" It burst out of him, although he kept himself from actually touching her. "Lincoln loved you. No one was more important to him than you were."

"Then, why," she asked quietly, her voice cracking, "why did he do it?"

"Because sometimes duty trumps love," Clarke said simply, as though it were something she understood in her very bones.

She glanced up at Bellamy, and he wondered, just for an instant, if she were trying to tell him something.

"Is that true, big brother?" Octavia asked, and Bellamy almost wept. She hadn't called him _big brother_ in a long, long time.

"It is," he agreed, "or at least it should be."

Bellamy paused, remembering all Kane's lessons about doing things for 'the right reasons'.

"It takes a brave man to do his duty when he knows that someone he loves will be hurt. Not everyone is that brave, but Lincoln was."

They were quiet then, for there was little more to be said.

It was then that Bellamy remembered he had other news to deliver. Unhappy news.

"We're not going to try to drag you back to Arkadia, Octavia, but there is something you need to know."

He made it a simple statement, but he could see that Octavia was immediately wary, as though she knew it would be something she wouldn't want to hear. It didn't take long for them to fill her in on the latest crisis.

"It makes no difference," she was stubborn.

But of course it did, and he knew that eventually she'd have to see that, too.

"You won't be able to stay here, O," Bellamy said. "But you don't have to come back with us now. There's still a little time while we try to figure it out. And you should know that we're all working on it together. Even Indra. This isn't just _our_ problem."

But for the moment she remained unconvinced.

"You can come back to Arkadia when you decide we're not the enemy," Clarke said quietly, "but right now we have to go."

She did no more than squeeze Octavia's shoulder before she turned toward the entrance to the cave.

Bellamy wanted to protest. He'd finally found Octavia and he didn't want to leave her. Not yet. But she wouldn't touch him, would hardly speak to him, so there seemed little point in staying.

And, after all, he'd done what he'd set out to do. He'd found his little sister. Now he had to hold fast to the belief that he'd see her again.

So he contented himself with a gentle caution. "Don't wait too long, O. I want you to be safe."

Reluctantly, he turned to follow Clarke, his mind already shifting to how long it would take them to return to the Rover and make their way back to Arkadia. So he was surprised when he heard Octavia's voice.

"Bell, wait."

Bellamy pivoted in her direction. Waiting, just as she'd asked. It was the first time she'd called him by that name since Lincoln died.

When she moved towards him, he thought for just an instant that she might be going to embrace him. But she stopped a few feet away.

One of Octavia's shoulders twitched as she struggled to get the words out.

"I-I'm sorry for...you know." Her hand fluttered towards her own face while her eyes flicked briefly over the one cut still visible on his left cheek. The one that was not quite healed. She looked away.

"Yeah, I know," he said quietly.

Things were not right with Octavia, not how he wanted them to be. And maybe they never would be.

But perhaps she didn't hate him quite so much after all.

Bellamy thought he might be able to make do with that knowledge. He could wait until later for forgiveness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be the final chapter, but it became far too long, so I divided it into two chapters. Chapter 12 will be up in the next day or so.

When they finally reached Arkadia, the Rover had barely come to a stop before John Murphy was opening his door.

Bellamy supposed he might have been surprised, but he wasn't. With what was happening on the planet, where else could he and Emori have gone? Or maybe Murphy really _had_ decided that Arkadia was an okay place to ride out the end of the world.

Either way, Bellamy was happy to see him.

"Did you find her?" It was Murphy's first question.

"She was in Lincoln's cave," Bellamy said, as he and Clarke wearily exited the Rover and grabbed for their packs.

"You gotta be shitting me! After all that, she was practically on our doorstep?"

Bellamy shrugged. "She'd been every other place we looked, too. We just got everywhere too late."

"So then...where the hell is she?"

Murphy glanced toward the gate, as though expecting to see Octavia ride through it any second.

"Still there," Bellamy's answer was terse.

Murphy opened his mouth, but before he could voice a follow-up question, Clarke interrupted him.

"How's Emori doing? She okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's good," Murphy answered briefly. "Thanks to the two of you."

Bellamy knew it was pointless to argue.

"I could really use a drink," he said instead, shifting his pack tiredly and moving towards the door.

Murphy clapped him on the shoulder. "First one's on me."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I heard you had a bit of trouble out on the road." Kane caught up to him as they were both leaving a committee meeting a couple of days later.

Bellamy sighed. "Murphy tell you about it?"

Kane shook his head. "Emori."

Bellamy couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "You're having one-on-ones with Emori these days?"

Kane shrugged. "Maybe she's decided the Skaikru are good people after all," he said. "And that's in large part thanks to you. And to Clarke's quick thinking."

_This was getting ridiculous._

"You do realize that we caused the problem in the first place, right? Put Emori in that position?"

"I heard it was a river changing course and an injured boy. And you not wanting to leave the Rover behind." He gave Bellamy a small smile. "Which, by the way, I appreciate."

Bellamy shook his head. "Whatever."

He turned to continue down the hall, but Kane grabbed his wrist, stopping his forward progress.

"You did a good thing, Bellamy. A brave thing." Kane seemed so sure that Bellamy almost wanted to let himself believe it might be true.

"Yeah?" he said, still not completely convinced that it hadn't somehow been all his fault, but more than willing to try to let go of some of the guilt.

"Yes." Kane was adamant. "You couldn't have known what would happen. And then you stepped up and did the right thing. For someone you hardly knew. I'd say you deserve to feel pretty good about it."

 _Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn't his fault. Or Clarke's. In the end, they_ had _managed to save the girl._

He'd been avoiding Emori, certain that she'd soon come to realize that he was to blame for everything that happened to her. But...maybe not. Maybe he should stop by. See how she was doing.

Bellamy couldn't help his sudden small smile.

"Thanks," he said, grateful for Kane's kindness to him. Hoping it didn't spring from residual guilt over what had happened while Kane had been in the City of Light. Bellamy liked to think they'd gotten past that.

He had turned away, sure that the chancellor must have more important things to do, when Kane's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"And...Octavia? Did you find her?"

Bellamy hesitated. He'd been told that Octavia had nothing to fear from Arkadia, but he figured that meant she wouldn't be floated - or whatever the Earth equivalent was. But she _had_ killed the chancellor, and he knew they couldn't just let her get away with that.

Should he tell Kane that he'd found Octavia? That she was relatively close by?

He knew he'd hesitated too long when Kane's expression changed. Became knowing.

"Look, Bellamy, you don't have to tell me where she is. And even if you do, I'm not going to send armed guards out to drag her back here."

Kane's assurances brought him some relief, but still.

"She did kill Pike. You can't just...let that go like it was nothing." Bellamy understood that.

"No," Kane said, "we can't. But we also - Abby and I - know that life has not been kind to Octavia, either here or on the Ark. And there's no doubt that...well, Charles might have thought there was some pressing need to make an example of Lincoln, but he really had no cause to execute him. None at all."

"I agree," Bellamy nodded. "But I also know that none of that gave Octavia the right to do...what she did. My mother taught me that when I was a little kid. Two wrongs don't make a right."

Kane nodded. "No, they don't. And if Octavia decides to return to us, she would probably face some type of penalty. But we wouldn't...hurt her. There's been enough of that kind of punishment. I think we could find some other way for her to atone."

He paused, inched a bit closer to Bellamy. Spoke quietly.

"The most important thing is that she understands that she did wrong."

"So...part of her being accepted back into Arkadia would be that she shows...contrition."

"I suppose so, yes."

Bellamy shook his head.

"I don't know if she'll ever come around to it," he said sadly.

"I understand," Kane said. "But maybe when her grief isn't so fresh, Octavia will find that she needs her brother, as well as her friends. And she'll understand that no society can accept members who only feel answerable to themselves. It would be...chaos."

 _What's wrong with a little chaos?_ Bellamy smiled inwardly, remembering. He'd learned the answer to that question the hard way. Over and over again.

"Maybe," he answered Kane now, trying to remain hopeful.

"Meanwhile...wherever she is...we'll leave her alone."

"She's in Lincoln's cave," Bellamy said impulsively, suddenly certain that telling Kane was the right thing to do.

"Good. Then she's safe for now."

XXXXXXXXXX

Bellamy had found it a lot harder to get back into a routine than he would have expected.

Ever since they'd come to the ground he'd done nothing but deal with one impossible situation after another. Not exactly fun times, but still, he'd always had a clear purpose. Even if he hadn't always chosen the right method to achieve it.

Then, when he got a little break from crisis mode, he'd given himself a new goal: find Octavia. And he'd managed that, too. While she hadn't come back with him, she was...available. If things on planet Earth took a sudden bad turn, he could maybe even persuade her that they weren't the enemy, and that she should return. But for now, just her proximity was enough.

But now he felt...at loose ends. He knew it was ridiculous, The planet was trying to kill them all, and he was going crazy because he wasn't the person responsible for preventing it.

Not that he hadn't been asked to help. Kane had wanted evacuation plans, and Bellamy had provided them. Then security plans, and defense plans, and he'd gotten all that done, too.

For now, his part in the planning was finished. In readiness. Waiting for the smarter people - the Ravens and the Montys - to figure out how to deal with the threat. Bellamy didn't consider himself an idiot, but he knew he'd have little to contribute to discussions about nuclear reactors or radiation levels.

So at the moment he had few day-to-day responsibilities, and he found that without those distractions to demand his attention, he was...fidgety. Not sleeping well. Unable to concentrate.

Bellamy didn't know if it was the restlessness, or the fatigue, or just the excess of free time, but it seemed like every damn day, without any kind of deliberate plan, he found his feet carrying him to the exact same spot.

He stood there now, barely noticing the other Arkadians who passed by with a look or a nod, because he was so totally focused on _not_ turning down the corridor to his right. The one that that led to the med bay, where the medical staff was working feverishly on treatments for radiation sickness or whatever the hell else this fucking planet was about to unleash on them.

_Where Clarke was._

He knew it was stupid, because she was right down the fucking hall, but he missed her so damn much, it felt like a physical ache. Like a wound that wouldn't heal.

Not that he never saw Clarke. Unless she was too busy to take a break, they ate dinner most nights with the same group of people.

But it wasn't the same.

He'd spent two weeks with her by his side almost every minute of the day. She'd slept curled against him every night. And they'd talked, really talked, about so many things. Things that they'd never had time to even think about while they were trying to save themselves. Save everyone. Save the whole damn world.

Now their meaningful conversation had been reduced to, "Please pass the salt."

Since they'd returned to Arkadia, he'd searched in vain for that Clarke. The Clarke who'd touched him with gentle hands. Who'd told him she needed him. Who'd looked at him with...could it really have been _affection_?

Was she just too busy to talk to him? Was he being selfish, expecting her to waste time with him when she had more important things to do? Or was it, as he'd begun to fear, that she was pulling back from him? That she'd realized she didn't need him after all. That he was too damaged to bother with.

Bellamy stood there, rooted to the spot, while the same questions that plagued him every day swirled around in his head. But people were already starting to look at him strangely, and he knew he couldn't stay there forever. He forced himself to move.

He could, as he did most days, recheck his evacuation protocols, or make yet another round of the guard stations. But today, Bellamy decided to opt for a different kind of activity.

 _Screw it_ , he told himself, wheeling suddenly, and heading briskly towards the other end of the Ark.

XXXXXXXXXX

He'd hardly been in the bar since Gina died. Too many memories of her handing out drinks and smiles with the same casual grace.

Grief without the guilt, that's what Clarke had asked of him, and as he slid onto the stool, Bellamy thought that maybe it was working. He felt sad but not overwhelmed as he placed his order with the new bartender, some guy from Farm Station whose name he couldn't recall.

"Coming right up, Bellamy," the barman said, and he wondered if he should be flattered or appalled that everyone always seemed to know exactly who _he_ was.

"I'm back, Gina," he said softly, raising his glass. "This one's for you."

She'd helped him a lot after Mt. Weather, with her cheerful and undemanding affection. Gina had never asked more of him than he'd been able to give, and he'd regret to his dying day that he'd never had the chance to tell her how much he valued her. How much he cared for her.  


Bellamy didn't honestly know how he'd have gotten through those dark days without Gina's bright warmth.

By the time his third drink was sliding down his throat, he was thinking about that other time that he'd been desperately missing Clarke Griffin. Not that he'd ever have admitted it back then. Instead, he'd told himself that he was worried for her safety, concerned for her state of mind. And he supposed both those things had been true.

But they hadn't been the whole story.

He'd managed to shove the rest of it down so far, bury it so deep, that when he'd told himself that the lurch he felt in his stomach every time he heard Clarke's name was nothing more than friendly concern, it hadn't really been a lie. Because Bellamy didn't lie to himself.

Then all it had taken was one glance at her through his rifle scope, and the delicate web of self-deceit he'd woven had been torn to shreds. As he finished off his third drink, he remembered his agitation, his gut-wrenching fear, and wondered again how in the hell he'd ever persuaded himself that what he felt for Clarke was anything other than...what it was.

 _Had Gina known?_ he wondered now. _Horrible thought! God, he hoped not._

When the barman brought him drink number four, he raised it again in tribute.

"You deserved better, Gina," he said earnestly, taking a generous swallow.

"Talking to yourself now, Blake?"

He hadn't heard her approach, and surprise choked a cough out of him as the liquor slid down his throat.

"What the hell are you doing here, Raven? Aren't you supposed to be saving the world? Or something equally important?"

Bellamy smiled wryly at his own feeble joke.

"All my calculations are done for tomorrow's meeting, and I just...felt the need for a little break before I write my report," she said, shrugging. Her brow wrinkled as she looked him over. "What the hell's your excuse for getting hammered in the middle of the day?"

"Nothing better to do."

"Yeah, right," Raven said, eyeing him skeptically as she slid onto the next stool.

"Ah, yes, there is another meeting tomorrow, isn't there?" Bellamy smirked as Raven sat down. "Another chance to see your friend Roan."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She bristled, but he thought he detected a faint pink tinge on her cheeks.

Bellamy shrugged, grinning. "Nothing. Except I know the guy has the hots for you."

Raven's eyes narrowed. "You _know?_ What do you mean you _know?_ "

"Well, he might have said something to me about you when we made our impromptu visit to Azgeda." He and Clarke had told their friends about all their "adventures" in the Ice Nation.

"Geez, Bellamy! You might have warned me." Raven was indignant.

"Not my business," he said, holding up both hands. "Besides, I knew you'd probably already figured it out."

"Maybe I had and maybe I hadn't. Either way, a head's up would've been nice."

Bellamy was quiet for a moment, working on his drink, while Raven placed her order.

But when he did open his mouth, he couldn't seem to stop what came out of it. Even though he knew it was none of his damn business.

"You know," he said earnestly, "if you want to be with Roan, you should just go for it. Who knows how much time we all have left?"

Raven made choking sounds as she turned in his direction.

"First of all, I'd like to think I'll be able to figure this thing out before it gets to that point. And second...relationship advice from _you_ , Bellamy Blake?"

"Why the hell not?" he asked indignantly.

"Because you're a fucking mess! You're so tied up in knots." Raven blew out a frustrated breath. "You both are."

Bellamy's mouth clicked shut. He was _not_ having this conversation with Raven.

But she was apparently perfectly content to have it all by herself.

"I think she's just scared, Bellamy," she said quietly, sipping on her drink.

Bellamy told himself he wasn't going to respond, but then he just couldn't help it.

"We're all scared, Raven. Every fucking day. Because we never know what's going to come at us next."

"It's not...that's not what I meant. It's just...Clarke is..."

Raven paused, and Bellamy felt himself tensing up at the mention of her name. No beating about the bush, then. No room for pretending that he didn't know what she was talking about. A direct frontal assault.

He held his breath, waiting for Raven's next words.

She sighed and continued. "That story you told, about fighting those two Azgeda warriors."

Raven shook her head as she recalled the conversation.

"I was watching Clarke while you were telling that story, Bellamy, while you were trying to make it, I don't know, funny, I guess. But we all knew you nearly died that day," she reminded him, "and I could see it on her face. _That's_ the part she was remembering while the rest of us were being entertained. And she's already lost a couple of people..."

Raven's breath hitched, and Bellamy knew she was probably thinking about Finn.

"...people that she cared about. That she maybe even loved." She sighed heavily. "But even _they_ weren't _you_."

"What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled. "That they weren't me?"

Raven swallowed the last of her drink. "I think you know," she said. "And if you don't, you need to ask her yourself. But right now, I gotta get back."

She slid off the stool carefully, favoring her left leg, as always, but Bellamy knew it would be more than his life was worth to try to help her. She was already standing, already turning to leave, when he thought of it.

"Raven, wait! Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, as long as it's not one you should be asking Clarke."

Bellamy shook his head. "Nope, it's about the time ALIE took over your body. Do you remember much from that day?"

Raven leaned against the counter, shifting her weight off her bad leg, and eyed him coolly.

"I gotta hand it to you, Blake. Nobody else has ever had the balls to ask me about that day. And to answer your question, I remember everything."

"So you remember the things you said to me?"

She quirked a brow at him. "Hey, if this is about my disparaging remarks about your sexual prowess, if you remember, you and I weren't exactly Romeo and Juliet."

Bellamy smirked. "Nope, not asking about that. I just figured ALIE had addled your brain about our...encounter."

"Maybe," Raven laughed.

"No...what I wanted to ask about," and now the smirk was gone as he picked his words carefully. "It's about what you said about...about my being more devoted to Clarke than to Gina."

Raven was immediately wary. "Bellamy..."

"No, I get it. That's something you would never have said to me if ALIE wasn't using you and your words to try to get under my skin. But...that doesn't mean it wasn't exactly what you thought. What _Raven_ thought."

"Except you told me I didn't know what I was talking about," she reminded him gently.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "But I might have been a little bit...in denial."

He struggled to explain what was going on in his head. "Look, when you walked in here I'd just been thinking about Gina, about how you said I didn't deserve her. And I'd been worrying that somehow she might have felt like...second choice."

The words had been hard to get out, and probably if he hadn't had all that alcohol, he'd never have had the guts to say them at all. But he knew this sentiment was at the root of a lot of the guilt he felt about Gina. Not about how she'd died, but about everything before that.

Raven was quiet, and for a moment he thought she might not answer him. But then she gave him a sad little smile and he knew she was going to give him her truth, as she saw it.

Bellamy braced himself.

"Gina was crazy about you, Bellamy. I tried to tell her her taste sucked, but she wouldn't listen. But I also knew her pretty well, and I never heard her say a bad word about you. Not that she thought you were perfect..."

Bellamy harrumphed.

"Right," Raven agreed, but her smile was gentle. "But she was happy with you, with the relationship." She paused. "Now if you're asking if she knew about you and Clarke..."

"There _was_ no me and Clarke," Bellamy interjected.

"Bellamy, there's _always_ been a you and Clarke, almost from the beginning. You just never...did anything about it. And everyone understood that. So it's possible someone might have said something to Gina, but it wasn't me. And if they did, it didn't seem to make any difference."

"Not even after I got hurt trying to save Clarke?"

"Not even then," she agreed. "So...is that what you wanted to know?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it was." He wondered if, when he thought about Raven's words later, they'd make him feel any better about Gina.

Bellamy thought she'd leave then, but she had a question of her own.

"Um, about Roan. You said he...mentioned me to you? You didn't say anything to him about, you know...?" Raven wiggled her fingers back and forth between them.

Bellamy shook his head. "We weren't exactly Romeo and Juliet," he parroted her own words back to her.

"Right," she said with a satisfied nod, slapping the counter and turning to leave.

She was nearly to the doorway when he called out to her.

"Hey, Raven!".

She turned, her face a question.

"Don't forget to wear something extra pretty tomorrow," Bellamy grinned.

"Go fuck yourself, Blake," she huffed, turning her back on him. She raised one arm over her head to flip him the bird as she made her way out the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

That night, after his conversation with Raven in the bar, Bellamy found sleep even more elusive. Could she be right? Was Clarke just...afraid? Was that why she'd been, if not exactly avoiding him, then keeping things between them at a very superficial level?

Or maybe she was still grieving for Lexa, as he was for Gina. But that didn't fly either. Now that he'd pulled his head completely out of the sack of denial, he admitted to himself that whatever there was between Clarke and him had started long before she'd met Lexa. Certainly long before she'd become...intimate with her.

But that didn't mean Clarke wanted things between the two of them to be...how he wanted them to be. If he even knew exactly what the fuck that was.

Bellamy's body shifted again, and he sighed in frustration. His last clear thought was that he'd slept better in the fucking cage in Mt. Weather.

When he staggered into the meeting the next day, Kane eyed him with concern.

"Bellamy, you're looking a little...under the weather. Are you ill?"

"Just tired."

He took his seat, doing his best to look alert, but as everyone filed in, he wondered how he was going to be able to focus on the agenda. Roan nodded as he entered, moving around to the other end of the table. Closer, Bellamy noted, to Raven.

Clarke was last, and she gave him a wary smile as she took the seat next to him, the same place she always sat. Bellamy returned the smile warmly, figuring that committee meetings were about as close as he was getting to Clarke these days.

When Raven started to speak, Bellamy tried hard to concentrate on what she was saying, but a lot of it was technical, and in his condition, pretty much beyond him. He knew he'd have to read it all later on his tablet and hoped to god he'd be able to understand it without having to crawl to Raven for explanations.

By the time Kane took over, Bellamy was very nearly asleep with his eyes open. Which is why he almost missed it. As it was, it took a moment for Kane's words to penetrate his tired brain. But when they did, Bellamy was suddenly more awake than he'd been in days. And he felt more energized than he had in weeks.

"I'll go," he said suddenly, interrupting Kane mid-sentence.

Kane frowned down at him, making an obvious effort to tamp down his annoyance. "What?"

"Didn't you just say that we needed information about the lands southeast of here? Between here and the sea?"

Kane nodded, his frown deepening.

Bellamy shrugged. "Well, then, I'll go and find out whatever you need."

At last. Something to do that would get him out of this funk. And it was important. Necessary. Vital, even, that they get this data.

Kane looked taken aback. "This is just a proposal, Bellamy," he hedged. "We haven't yet decided if it would be advisable. Or even safe."

"Safe? What on this planet is _safe_? _Where_ on this planet is safe?"

When Abby smiled at him gently, he knew she would try to dissuade him. So he preempted her.

"This is stuff we need to know, and I'm the best person to go after it," he said decisively.

At the other end of the table, a throat cleared.

"Are you sure about that, Skaikru?" Roan's eyes narrowed as he asked the question. Bellamy had forgotten he was even in the room.

He nodded in acknowledgement of the other man's longer tenure on the planet. But he had a few questions of his own.

"Have you ever been south of here, your majesty? Do you know how to drive the Rover? Operate any of our...gadgets?"

"I'm sure I could learn..."

Kane sighed, interrupting the debate. "Don't you have your people to look after, Roan? Doesn't a king need to stay home and," his brow wrinkled, "run things?"

Roan shrugged. "I've never cared much for the politics. I have...others to do that. And from what I've been hearing, making this journey _would_ be taking care of my people."

The room was silent as the two young men studied each other. Finally, Bellamy nodded.

"Best of both worlds," he said. "We go together."

Kane and Abby exchanged a glance, communicating wordlessly, and then Kane shrugged, ending the debate.

"I suppose I should have known this would happen. And it _would_ be tremendously helpful to know what's out there. My greatest concern is whether you two can get this done without killing each other."

Bellamy smirked. "I think I can restrain myself for the good of humanity."

"I, too, will exercise self-control," Roan said, his face expressionless. But Bellamy caught the glint of amusement in his eye.

"Well, then," Kane said, "it appears we have a plan..."

"So, that's it? We just...send them off without a thought?"

Bellamy's head swiveled in surprise when he heard the quiet question. It was the first time Clarke had spoken since the meeting began.

Her chair scraped and squealed along the metal floor as she rose quickly and looked around before addressing the group.

"Shouldn't we...discuss this a bit more? Think about the alternatives?"

Bellamy hadn't so much as glanced at her during his exchange with Kane and Roan because he hadn't wanted to be influenced by the expression on her face. He'd been afraid she might think he wasn't capable of completing the mission. But he needed to do this. Needed to feel like he was contributing.

"Clarke," he turned his whole body towards her, trying to project his deeply-felt confidence. "I can do this..."

She jerked around in his direction, her face stricken.

"That's what you think? That my objection is that you aren't up to it?"

There was dead silence as Clarke stared at Bellamy accusingly, and he stared back in bewilderment.

"Maybe..." she said, clearly struggling to maintain control, "...maybe I just don't think it's worth the risk."

She was out the door then, while Bellamy was left sitting there with his mouth open. He glanced around the table, and the others looked back at him with sympathy. When his eyes locked with Raven's, she shook her head and mouthed one word.

 _Scared_.


	12. Chapter 12

The meeting broke up shortly after Bellamy and Roan firmed up their plans. It was agreed that they wouldn't leave for a few days to give Roan time to settle things in the Azgedan capital. And it would be just the two of them, traveling in the Rover, light and quick.

Afterwards, Bellamy looked for Clarke in the med bay, but she wasn't there. Nor was she in her quarters. He blew out a breath in frustration, then decided it was probably just as well. Because he had no idea what he'd say to her. Or what she might even want to hear.

He was suddenly overcome with exhaustion, and while he ordinarily tried not to give in to the urge to sleep during the day, on this day it was either take a nap or keel over. So Bellamy made his way back to his room and stretched out tiredly on the bed. Whether it was the cumulative lack of sleep, or the prospect of a new mission quieting his mind, Bellamy's head had no sooner hit the pillow than he was sound asleep.

He awoke, groggy and disoriented, to a sharp rapping at his door. Since his interior room had no access to daylight, he had no idea how long he'd been asleep.

The knocking came again.

"Bellamy, I know you must be in there because I've looked everywhere else."

Clarke's voice, determined.

He sprang from the bed, suddenly alert, snapped on a lamp and crossed the short distance to open the door.

"Clarke! What are you doing here?" She hadn't been anywhere near his room since they'd gotten back to Arkadia.

"You're not going to invite me in?" She seemed...tentative.

He threw the door open wide and ushered her in, bewildered and still a little sluggish.

They sat on his bed, on top of the bedclothes that were still rumpled from his recent nap. He remembered the last time they'd sat in his room like this. She'd been trying to talk him out of leaving to look for Octavia. When that hadn't worked, she'd invited herself along.

Shit! She didn't think she could tag along on this trip, did she? He opened his mouth to dash any ideas along those lines, but she got there first.

"Why weren't you at dinner?" she asked abruptly.

"Dinner? What time is it?"

"Nearly nine."

Nine o'clock? He'd been asleep for almost six hours. He guessed he must have been tireder than he thought.

Bellamy shrugged. "I guess I slept through it. I can deal with missing a meal now and then."

"You were asleep? So you weren't...avoiding me?"

" _Avoiding you?_ I went _looking_ for you after the meeting, but you'd disappeared."

"Yeah," Clarke looked away. "I went for a walk."

"A walk?" There was nowhere to walk to, unless...

"Dammit, Clarke! Were you walking in the woods by yourself?"

She nodded. "I needed to...clear my head."

And all at once he was furious. "Are you fucking nuts? You can't just go off by yourself on a jaunt through the damn woods. I'll bet you didn't even tell anyone where you'd gone."

Bellamy paused for breath as he wound up to lace into her again, but he never got the chance.

"Shut up!" she said suddenly, her face only inches from his. "Don't you dare lecture me about personal safety." Clarke's chest was heaving with anger.

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean? Aren't we all meant to look out for each other?" He knew he sounded obnoxiously self-righteous, but _shit!_ She couldn't take such crazy risks.

And then she was barking with laughter. Although she looked anything but amused.

"You," she said, punctuating her words with a hard poke to his chest, "are telling me to stay safe, and yet..." Her breath hitched, caught. "And yet, you've just volunteered for another _suicidal_ mission."

She folded her arms across her chest, daring him to refute this.

Bellamy knew it was dangerous, but what on this damn planet wasn't. "Someone has to find this stuff out, Clarke, or we're not going to survive. You already _know_ this."

"Yeah," she said, not giving an inch, "but why does that person always have to be _you_?"

"Because I'm the best one for the job," he insisted. "Or at least...Roan and I make the best team. Are you trying to tell me you don't think I can do this? Because you used to have more faith in me than that."

Clarke closed her eyes and all the fight suddenly seemed to go out of her. She slumped down on his bed.

"No, of course not. You know I trust you more than anyone."

Her voice was muffled as she curled herself into a ball.

"I'm just tired...it's hard being so scared for you all the time, Bellamy. I can't...I don't know how to handle it."

Bellamy's smile was wry, as he considered the irony. He reached out and brushed a stray lock from Clarke's forehead, the same one that was forever falling into her eyes.

"Do you have any idea how much time I've spent worrying about you with all the heroic shit you've pulled since we got down here?" he asked, his voice soft. "Christ, you disappeared for three goddamn months, Clarke, and the only way I got through that was by pretending..."

Bellamy paused, suddenly aware of exactly where that sentence had been headed.

"Pretending what?" she asked.

"Pretending you must be okay," he lied. "And you weren't even on a mission. You didn't have to leave..." He stopped. This was getting them nowhere.

"You know I'm not still angry about that, right? I just wanted to remind you that I worry, too. We worry about each other. Every single thing we've had to do here on the ground has been dangerous, but that's never kept us from doing what needed to be done."

Bellamy slid closer, moving his hand to gently stroke her cheek. It was the first time she'd been so near, the first time he'd been able to reach out and touch her, in weeks.

"I made it through Mt. Weather, and that was a lot more dangerous." His voice was soft as his hand hovered over her cheek mid-stroke. "And you didn't seem to have any problem with me going on that mission."

"That's because I was pretending, too," she said, grabbing his hand to lever herself back into a sitting position, curling against his side.

Bellamy waited for her to explain further, but she just shook her head, resigned.

"I know you'll do a great job. You always do. I was just...counting on us not having to be separated again."

_She didn't want to be separated from him?_

"And that would bother you? Because lately, it hasn't seemed like you really give a damn whether I'm around or not. Ever since we got back it's felt like _you're_ the one doing the avoiding."

"I've been busy in med bay," she was quick to insist. But he just wasn't buying it.

"Bullshit. You told me you needed me, that we needed each other. You can't need me much if you never bother to see me. If we never even have a conversation."

He locked eyes with her, daring her to deny it.

"It's...I..." She looked away, uncharacteristically inarticulate.

"I haven't had much luck with...with personal relationships since we got to the ground, Bellamy. People keep...dying on me."

Bellamy had a sudden unwelcome thought.

"Is it...is this about Lexa? You never talked about why you aren't carrying the AI any longer, but if you don't want to spend time with me because you can't get past that sadness..."

She shook her head. "It's...not about Lexa. I know she'll always be in my heart, just like Finn. But now...I gave Raven The Flame. She's using it to help figure out how to save us."

He nodded. "Okay, but maybe you need to take it back..."

"Bellamy, no. It's not that." She sighed. "At first, having The Flame was a comfort, like a part of Lexa was still with me in some way. And it gave me a purpose. Finding a nightblood. It was something I could do to try to make up for her taking a bullet that had been meant for me."

She looked at him sadly.

"But after being in the The City of Light...I could tell that none of it was real. Even though I saw Lexa there...even spoke to her...I know she wasn't real, either. She's not in that piece of wire and metal, Bellamy. It's just a...a computer that's stored parts of her personality in a program. Ones and zeroes, just like every other program."

She pressed her lips together, resolute, accepting. "I know she's gone, and nothing is going to bring her back. So, no...this isn't about Lexa."

"Then what?"

Clarke looked down at Bellamy's hands, picked them up, and began idly playing with his fingers. He could see her working up to...something.

She cleared her throat, her eyes still cast downward, studying their hands.

"I've been kind of stupid, Bellamy."

Bellamy smiled, amused. "How so?" Clarke was one of the smartest people he knew.

"I thought that if I...stayed away from you, you'd be safe."

"Safe?"

"Like I said, people who are...with me...seem to end up dead."

And just like that, Bellamy felt his insides twist.

_With her?_

They'd never been together like that. Neither of them had ever even alluded to it. And he'd put a huge effort into trying not to even think about it.

He was on tenterhooks as he waited for her next words. Afraid that he'd misunderstood. Afraid that she'd meant something else entirely.

"It was when we went to visit Luna the second time."

"What was?" He breathed out the words.

"When Luna wanted to see you alone, I knew why. And I thought...Bellamy can't be with her. He's mine. But then I realized how stupid that was, because that wasn't how it was with us. I told myself you'd probably never even thought of me like that. So of course you should be with Luna. If that's what you wanted."

She looked up then, and her eyes settled on his face.

"But then you came back. You didn't stay with her."

"No," he said.

"Why not?" The question was hesitant, as though maybe she wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer.

"Because it _wasn't_ what I wanted," he said simply, returning her stare.

He could see the flutter of a pulse in her throat, and it seemed to him that it was beating very rapidly. And he would almost swear that he could hear her breathing.

Or maybe it was him. All of it. The rapid pulse, the shallow breaths.

Bellamy was suddenly afraid he might stop breathing altogether.

"Then what _do_ you want?" she asked softly, the words coming out in quiet little staccato beats.

It was now or never, he thought. Now or never. "If you haven't figured that out yet, then I don't know why we're even having this conversation."

Her breath caught and she gave him the tiniest of smiles. Soft. Tentative. But the kind of smile that reached her eyes.

"Then...I want what you want," she said plainly. "I think I have for a long time, but there was always something more important to do than worry about how I...felt about you. But that day, while we watched the sunset, I was just so damn happy that you came back."

Her shoulder twitched in the barest of shrugs. "And I knew."

Bellamy could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"Then why have you been avoiding me for weeks?" It made no sense.

She sighed. "It's crazy. I know that. But...I got so scared. When you had to fight those Azgedans I was so afraid I might really lose you, and that I'd have to watch it happen. I could hardly stand it."

Her eyes were glassy as she relived those moments in her head.

"So I thought if I could keep you at a distance, care about you but not be with you, you wouldn't be tainted by my...curse."

That brought a soft laugh from Bellamy. "I really don't think you're cursed, Clarke."

"No, I suppose not," she said with a watery little smile. "But I couldn't think of another way to keep you safe. Or me from being heartbroken again."

"So how's this plan of yours working out for you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head. "Not so well. I still worry like hell. And I miss you so much."

Bellamy reached up to cup her face in both his hands.

"I've been going crazy with missing you, too," he said. "So if you've got some stupid idea that I'm going to be the one to say we can't be together, I can tell you right now that's not going to happen. Because I want you too damn much."

"Oh," she said, smiling softly, and suddenly the tears spilled over.

"Hey, what's this?" he asked, wiping them away.

"Happy tears," she said, "but I don't want to cry anymore."

Her lips were wet with tears when she pressed them against his. He wasn't expecting it, but it didn't take him long to catch up. His arms flew around her, pulling her close, and pretty soon the rest of the world went away, and all he knew was the feel of her lips against his, and the press of her soft body against his hard one.

They shifted down onto the bed as they continued to kiss, pouring out all the weeks and months of suppressed longing, nearly unable to process the sudden happiness. And having only that one way to express it. When Clarke reached under his shirt and stroked her hands across his skin, it felt to Bellamy like a thousand volts of electricity were shooting through him.

By the time they broke the kiss, he felt almost dizzy with joy. He pulled her up against him, and they lay curled together, softly stroking each others' skin. And suddenly, the sense of urgency was gone. It was the damnedest thing, Bellamy thought. The planet was going to kill them in a few months, but it still felt like they had all the time in the world.

He never wanted to stop kissing Clarke, but at the same time he was just as happy lying there with her cradled against his chest. Knowing that he could - whenever he wanted to - kiss her again.

"Maybe you can break the curse, Bellamy," she muttered. "The one that says Clarke Griffin's lovers all have to die."

She'd said it quietly, with wry amusement, yet it seemed to Bellamy that beneath the surface he could still hear the fear and uncertainty. He had a sudden idea.

"What if we don't tempt fate?" he said, thinking he must really be a masochist. "What if we don't become lovers right now?"

Clarke lifted her head to study him, her face a mixture of hurt and bewilderment.

"You don't...want me?" she asked uncertainly.

Bellamy groaned, pulling her head down and burying his face in her hair.

"You can't imagine how much I want you, Clarke. _Have_ wanted you for months now. It's taking every ounce of willpower I have not to help you out of those clothes and sink into you."

"You can't say things like that to me, Bellamy," she moaned quietly. "Not if you want me to consider this...plan of yours."

"I meant it just for now. Until the mission is over. So maybe you'll worry a little less while I'm gone." He grinned cheekily. "After that, after I get back, I intend to debauch you morning, noon, and night."

Clarke laughed, caressing his cheek. Sighed softly.

"You would do that for me?" she asked, shaking her head in amazement. "You would wait?"

"I think by now you know I'd do pretty much anything for you," he said quietly.

They stared at each other in silence.

"What if we can't do it?" she said finally.

"Then we start the debauchery early."

Bellamy leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers. "And I never said we wouldn't be kissing," he added, "or touching."

"Glad we cleared that up," she said, pulling him down and opening her mouth to deepen the kiss.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was nearly a week before preparations for their mission had been completed and they were ready to leave. Apparently, political considerations in the Azgeda capital had proven more complex than Roan had anticipated.

Bellamy and Clarke had spent their limited free time wrapped up in each other, trying to make up for earlier wasted opportunities. Knowing only too well that they'd soon be separated. They had expected to be harassed about their sudden obvious togetherness, but only Raven had something to say. And that was just two words.

 _"Thank god,"_ she said firmly, when she saw them holding hands in the mess hall that first morning.

Among their other friends, there may have been a raised eyebrow or two, or perhaps a small smirk. Emori grinned when she caught them kissing near the med bay door. But then Bellamy had always suspected that in spite of her cynical persona, Emori was a bit of a romantic.

It was only by reminding himself every single day that he couldn't let her down that Bellamy had been able to resist becoming completely intimate with Clarke.

Now that they'd admitted that what they felt for one another was so much more than just friendship, the connection he felt to her was stronger and deeper than anything he'd ever thought possible with another human being. He desperately wanted to express those feelings, and he was holding himself in check only by the skin of his teeth.

Clarke, always so full of unreserved passion, was no help. By the second day, she was panting out her frustration with every brush of Bellamy's hands and lips against her skin. And by the third, she was using her considerable powers of persuasion to try to change his mind.

"This is stupid, Bellamy," she coaxed, running her hands through his hair as she rained kisses across his body. "Of course I'm not cursed. And even if I was, with all this kissing and touching, do you really think the gods of karma are going to distinguish between what we're doing and actual fucking?"

Bellamy groaned, as he had every time she'd said something similar. He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted Clarke, and he wondered why the hell he'd ever dreamed up this particular brand of self-torture. But then he remembered how her face had relaxed just the slightest bit when he'd suggested his plan to try to hoodwink the fates. For Bellamy, a little sexual longing was a small price to pay if he could buy Clarke even the tiniest shred of peace of mind while he was away.

So he swallowed his frustration and turned it into a jest.

"Think of it as extended foreplay," he said with a smile. " _Character-building_ extended foreplay."

Clarke barked out a short laugh. "My character must be enormous by now."

But then, on the last night before Bellamy was scheduled to leave, all the annoyance and all the frustration seemed to just melt away. The only thing that mattered was that they were together. They held onto each other for hours, their soft stroking and tender kisses storing up a reserve of tactile memories for the lonely days ahead.

The next morning they were saying their goodbyes in the yard while Roan waited near the gate, his customary impatience no doubt mitigated by the fact that he was chatting with Raven. Bellamy wrapped Clarke in his arms, thinking how perverse it was that he could be so miserable to be leaving her, and at the same time so excited at the prospect of completing the mission.

It was also odd to think it was Roan who would be his partner, a man who'd almost killed him the first time they met. But then there were few things on this planet that he hadn't found, at one time or another, bewilderingly odd.

Bellamy was hugging Clarke tightly, loath to let go, when he heard the tower guard calling his name.

"Hey, Bellamy, look out by the tree line!"

He reluctantly tore himself away from Clarke and turned his head toward the path that led to the forest. And was stunned at what he saw. Just at the point where the path disappeared into the trees, sitting tall astride her horse, was Octavia. She had come that far but was clearly coming no further.

He looked at Clarke in wonder, and saw a small smile on her face. But no surprise.

"You did this," he said, suddenly certain.

"Me? You think I could ever get Octavia to do anything she didn't want to do?"

"I meant...this was your idea."

Clarke shrugged. "I may have suggested to Kane to send Monty to the cave to let Octavia know you were leaving on the mission this morning. And that she could come by without fear that he'd try to take her in."

She gave a little frown. "I didn't tell you because, uh..."

"Because you were afraid she might not show up. I understand."

Bellamy looked down at Clarke, thinking of everything she'd done for him since they'd come to the ground. All the ways she'd helped him to grow as a person, as a man. How well she understood him, that she had known how grateful he would be to have the chance to see Octavia before he left.

"I love you," he said quietly. He'd never said it before, not in that way. Not to Clarke or anyone else.

She gave a soft little gasp.

" _This_ is when you choose to tell me that?" she said, her eyes suddenly wet with tears. "In the middle of the yard with a dozen people standing around?"

Bellamy smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry," he said. "It just kind of slipped out. I know you don't want to hear it."

"No!" she said. "You're wrong. This is exactly when we need to say these things. Not when you're dying. Or already dead."

Clarke took a deep breath, smiled happily. "I love you, too, Bellamy. More than I can really even explain. Please don't die on me."

He laughed. "You're such a romantic," he said, hugging her tightly once again.

"Now go talk to your sister." She pushed him away.

"You never change, Clarke Griffin. Always so bossy."

Bellamy picked up his pack, nodded to Roan, and the two slid into the Rover. As he drove out the gate and down the path to meet Octavia, Bellamy was suddenly very clear about three things.

He would patch up his relationship with Octavia. If not today, then some other day. But it would happen.

He would successfully complete this mission, getting the information they needed to keep them all alive and safe.

And he would love Clarke Griffin forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end. I hope you've enjoyed taking this trip with me.


End file.
